Water Under The Bridge
by aiji-mango
Summary: Jim goes to the Academy, flirts, does well. He spent more time indoors than he'd have liked, but that was before he met the  acting  librarian. My first story, please review!
1. Chapter 1

Hello there! This is my first attempt at both writing fanfiction and Star Trek fanfiction, hee. It's mildly AU, Jim is still in the Academy and Spock is a librarian. Please be kind, and review so I can improve! Thank you very much for reading! :D

~Aiji

~0~

It was, all in all, quite a waste, Jim Kirk thought. It was an amazing day outside- a cool breeze was blowing, but it was warm enough for the grounds to be peppered by more adventurous female students in rather short skirts, eschewing jackets and the warmer uniform issued for spring and autumn. Laughing, joking, gossiping… and he wasn't there to take advantage of it.

_At all,_ he thought glumly, as the lecturer droned on about the finer points of navigation in relation to astrophysics. What was the point of being a genius if he had to sit through twice as many lectures? He should make it a point to drift out of the top percentile in the next term, just so he could at least flirt a bit before autumn rolled around and everybody went back to wearing their warmer uniforms. Starfleet invited too many guest lecturers, anyway.

He rolled his neck as he left the lecture hall, feeling mild satisfaction at the very audible staccato cracks, and rubbed the nape.

"You shouldn't do that, Jim. One day your neck will stay that way." came an irate voice. Jim felt the edges of his mouth pull into a grin as he turned, bad mood evaporating.

"Bonesy! Looking as ill-tempered as ever, I am glad to see, means all systems are functioning optimally!" Jim laughed, slapping the shoulder of his friend, Leonard McCoy. "Anyway, some good may come of it. At least I would save effort editing the orientation of all landscape pictures that are meant to be portraits. I'd be able to see them properly just like thaa- hello there, ladies!" He swivelled on the spot, head to one side, sending a charming smile to a pair of giggling Cadets, who quickly ducked around a corner. Jim turned back to Bones. "I love spring," he sighed happily. "Your sour face does nothing to faze my enthusiasm, Bonesy. You should get out into fresh air more. What say you?"

A look of faint amusement crossed Bones' face. "I recall I have a simulation to run in 15 minutes, and so do you. Not to say that your dogged and incurable bone-headedness in the pursuit of legs-" Jim snorted in laughter "-Would not be a spectacle to behold, but thanks but no thanks."

"Don't pretend now. You were waiting for me, weren't you Bones."

"To make sure you didn't forget about that simulation. Bryce said you bailed on the one scheduled last week."

"Ah, but I had a reason. So you can't touch me," Jim replied and theatrically wagged a finger.

"I'm pretty sure 'research for the good of humankind' does not involve assessing the limbs of female Cadets, Jim."

"Somewhere, it probably does," the blond replied off-handedly. "But since it's you, Mister I-have-a-simulation-to-run McCoy." He took two steps, then paused. "Simulation deck 3, was it?"

"No, 7." Leonard McCoy growled, and walked past him into an adjacent corridor leading up to the simulation halls.

"My hero," Jim laughed, and followed.

~0~

The simulation was standard enough; an evacuation shuttle experiencing communications problems navigating a mid-ferocity space storm, with minimum damage and casualties as the main objective. A breeze, Jim thought. Then he remembered Leonard McCoy was with him. He always got into a flap when casualties were to be avoided.

"Don't go there, Jim, it's right in the trajectory of that belt of space debris." He ground out as Jim manoeuvred the shuttle through the storm. "No damn casualties, remember?"

"Maintaining the previous course, Mr McCoy, would have taken us too close to the orbital moon and thrown us off course completely. No time for that." He stole a look sideways (and narrowly missed a large space rock) to see Leonard's mouth drawn tight at the corners, a distinct frown on his face as he ran calculations through the shuttle's computer. He turned back to the manual controls.

He rather enjoyed piloting manually, even though he knew Bones would rather eat his own foot than set it on a manually controlled ship with James T. Kirk behind the helm. The debris belt was tricky though. He wondered if the amount of close shaves would be noted by the observing instructors. _Of course it will. _But he knew that most, if not all, cadets would choose the orbital moon over the debris belt, and as often as not, one theoretical passenger would die, at least. "Leaving the debris belt in five, four, three-" _Pause for effect. _The screen, which had been full of hurtling space junk and broken-up asteroids, cleared suddenly, and the proximity sensors that had been singing their urgency uninterrupted for the last 10 minutes faded into silence. The image of a planet, their destination, loomed, and a series of beeps sounded from a small console besides Jim's elbow.

"Communications up and running. Channels open to receive landing signal from base. This is Shuttle J-18, transporting civilians from evacuating planet Loran VII. Come in base." The relief in Bones' voice was palpable, and Jim couldn't help but smirk a little.

"Base to Shuttle J-18. You are clear to land." came the automated response.

"Beginning entry into atmosphere. Angle 15 degrees. Take her down, Jim."

An uneventful descent and smooth landing later, the simulation was finished. Jim swivelled his chair around, watching the return to reality as the lights came on and the hatch door in the 'shuttle' wall slid open, admitting the examiner observers. "Thank you, Cadets. The simulation is concluded."

"Thank _you_, Madam." Jim grinned, as Bones' eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. They were almost through the door when the chief observer who had spoken (a rather attractive woman, Jim thought) stopped them.

"It is a requirement that you write a report on your actions, decisions and reasoning as a follow-up to the exercise. Full-length." She added meaningfully, as Jim opened his mouth. He shut it again and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Of course, madam. Will that be all?" Another patented James T. Kirk winning smile, guaranteed to melt hearts and resolve.

"That will be all, Cadet. Good day." She returned his smile with a cool and completely unaffected one of her own. Jim paused for a second, and then Bones was nudging him gently but firmly out of the simulation deck.

"I'm losing my touch, Bones. The winter has withered me away," Jim moaned. "My charm has evaporated, did you see how she didn't even blink? Doomed to celibacy, with nary a warm female glance to send me on my way. Oh, _me_." He hung his head, bottom lip protruding slightly. Then something seemed to occur to him. "I have to write a _report._"

"Indeed. Full-length." Replied Bones, who was finding it very difficult to keep a straight face. A celibate Jim Kirk was about as likely as an inflatable dartboard, but teasing his friend would be something he wouldn't pass on –it's not like Jim wasted an opportunity to do the same to him- so he decided he wouldn't relate how the chief observer had had to sit down and fan herself with her notes after Jim had gone through the door. Capillaries in the facial area dilating- Bones knew the biology of a blush purely as trivia, but the poor woman had been quickly progressing from 'blush' to 'brick red'.

They were going towards the canteen. "I wonder what's on the menu today," Jim wondered. "It's been a while since they served those bread dumplings with sauce, pork and sauerkraut, do you remember that? Or potato fritters and cream. I'm pretty sure I smelled potato." Just then, Cadet Uhura walked around the corner with her head held high. She barely glanced at them, making her way briskly towards the grounds instead.

_She was wearing summer uniform._

Bones' hand was on his shoulder like a vice. "Lunch, Jim. Nothing Swahili on the menu today. Or ever. Let's get some food in you. Then we can do the report."

"Oh, _me_."

~0~

A good lunch did wonders to Jim's mood and growing dread of the report. He was practically bouncing as he dragged Bones the long way to the library, skirting the main building and cutting through the grounds to the promenade by the shore. The wind was a little nippier than he had expected, but he didn't actually mind. "You're being infantile." Bones growled.

"Short skirts and a healthy wind never hurt anybody. I feel ready to do that report, in any case."

Offering to block them from the wind with his own body may admittedly have been overkill. But damn, winter was over, and he had a report to write. He could already see, in his mind's eye, where the professors and observers would pause over his report, and discuss, debate, argue. He had gotten a few insights into the workings of things when he had a consultation over lunch with a female engineering lecturer. Instead of discussing Poebl's theory of hydrofusion and its role in subspace travel, they had had two hours of friendly banter on office procedures and politics. She was new and anxious to not get in trouble, and he had assured her she'd have no problems… But now he knew how professors and lecturers and observers pooled information about students, especially interesting students (among whose ranks Jim had no doubt he belonged) and discussed their personalities and calibre and everything else.

He knew they'd be pulling out his data when they read his report.

He picked a table in the library and slid into the seat, sprawling bonelessly and running a hand through his hair. Then he leaned his elbows on the table (a few girls looked away quickly) and pulled a PADD towards him. "Down to business, eh Bones?" A twitch of the eyebrows was the only acknowledgement he got; Bones' stylus was already moving. He grinned.

Across the library, past computers and shelves of neatly labelled tapes and discs, a pair of brown eyes watched him.

~0~

I think we all know to whom those eyes belong :D sorry about not writing more about Spock! I think this is going to be pretty slow-building Spirk, if I get that far. Again, this is my first attempt, so please review and help me improve! Have a great day

-Aiji


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you everybody for the very encouraging reviews! I'll do my best and meet expectations with the second chapter There will be more of Spock in this chapter, as promised. Enjoy, and please review! Special thanks to Starlette, your comment made my day! ^_^

~Aiji

~o~

_The objective of the exercise was to minimise casualties, conditionally through avoiding damage to the shuttle and make as quick a time as possible to base, to ensure the theoretical evacuees who were experiencing radiation poisoning would get the necessary medical attention. The gravitational pull-_

Something was missing. Jim thoughtfully tapped his temple with his stylus. He could reason and explain all he wanted, but no report was complete without references to some discoveries or theorems some old guy or other had come up with. When they should have been out having healthy exercise instead of cooking up formulas to make the lives of Cadets everywhere miserable. Examiners loved that… Give them a pedestal, and they'd give you an A. Better still, something they didn't expect. A memory niggled the back of his mind- something about certainty and optimal outcomes against probability. There was a theorem somewhere…

"Hey Bones," he said out loud. "There was a theorem about certainty and probability, I think we took it under Piloting and Navigations, or Reasoning and Psychology in Space. Probably one of the earlier modules. I can't for the life of me remember the name of it."

"Don't know why you're asking me, Jim." Bones grunted. "I specialise in medicine. I'm a doctor, not a pilot."

"Wilkinson? No, his is the theory of cross-dimensional relativity. Nevecerel, parallel bivalve dynamics…" He ticked the names off with his fingers. He reached his pinky and paused, frowning.

Bones finished a sentence and sighed, leaning back in his chair. "We're in a library, Jim."

"-Bridge psychology, maybe. What? Oh." Jim pushed his PADD a little further away. "I don't even know which module it's in, though." He made a face. "There's no way I'm going to go through the whole of Year One and Two theorems."

Bones felt as if he really was talking to a child. He adjusted his grip on his stylus. "Why don't you ask the library staff? It's their job to know the material, after all. Ask them, and let me write my report in peace."

Jim was still not convinced. "I don't know. I'd ask old O'Donnell, but I think he was asked to go back and be a professor." He caught sight of Bones' glare. "Alright, I'm going, I'm going…" He stood up and stretched. Then, PADD under his arm, he made his way through the long, spotless shelves in search of someone to ask.

"Unbelievable," Bones muttered, turning back to his PADD.

Meanwhile, Jim was feeling unsure. It wasn't something he enjoyed, nor something he encountered very often. Whether it was making a controversial decision in the simulation deck or flirting with someone he didn't know, he always knew what he was doing. How do you ask for the name of the guy who came up with a theorem you couldn't remember? 'Hello, who was the guy who came up with that equation about probability and outcomes?' That just didn't work. If he only knew the _module…_

The librarian's counter was empty. O'Donnell never left the counter unmanned, even when he was making his rounds.

Jim regarded it for a moment, feeling annoyed. He could wait for whoever was on duty to come back. Or there was also the option of browsing aimlessly to try and luck out. His fingernail tapped against the shelf on his left. The chances of hitting the right disc in the vast library archives was abysmally small, but then, he hated waiting. _Well, nothing for it._ He picked a section and pulled out several titles at random.

A pair of brown eyes stared back at him. He almost dropped his PADD.

They stared at him through the gap the removed discs had created. He quickly composed himself; James T. Kirk didn't let a pair of eyes shake his composure and his aura of awesomeness. He might devote some thought to how his reputation would suffer, despite all the flawless examinations, legendary simulation showings and less formal conquests. If only those eyes would stop _staring._

"Um. Hi." He smiled, then realized belatedly that it was like smiling at a wall- of course the person couldn't see him, whoever it was. On account of the shelf being in the way. How awkward. _But let it not be said that Jim Kirk is not a social animal._ He slotted the titles back, swaggered to the next section and smiled again. And stopped.

"Do you require assistance?"

The man was Vulcan. Which pretty much rendered the term 'man' invalid. Jim had assumed it was a 'he' almost immediately (he had met some females taller than him… none had been humanoid when it came to skin tone) from what he had been able to wean from the gap in the shelf, but he would never expect a Vulcan. The eyebrows and pointed ears were unmistakeable.

He realised he had been asked a question, and looked at the Vulcan curiously. "Actually, yes." He paused. "I am not sure if you can help me, though." He was undoubtedly a staff member, for all his youthful looks. The black uniform let on that much. The librarian? No, impossible, he knew the library staff. If by 'knew' one meant having memorised shift schedules to accommodate that one fling he had with the petite library trainee. There had been no Vulcan, he was sure of that.

"It is illogical to come to that conclusion unless you pose a question I am unable to answer."

_How about if I am unable to even ask the question in the first place?_ Jim thought sourly. He tried to phrase the question in his mind, but it didn't sound right no matter how he arranged and rearranged it. Bugger. "I'm looking for… a theorem. I know I've come across it, but I can't remember what module it was." he laughed uneasily. "I don't really remember much about it. It was about certainty, probability and outcomes, I think." He hated how unsure he sounded. Indecisive. _Weak._ Well done, Jim. Stellar. More for the staff to talk about over coffee break. Did Vulcans drink coffee? Everybody drank coffee. Maybe black. No, better make that cappuccino. His imagination, rising unbidden like dough with too much yeast, yielded an image of the Vulcan before him with a foam moustache.

Seemingly unaware of the Cadet's undignified ruminations, the Vulcan thought for a while. At least, that's what Jim assumed he was doing, since he wasn't talking and neither was he, but the lack of body language made Jim a little uncomfortable. Most people at least shifted a little. Or folded their arms. Tapped the table, maybe let their eyes wander.

The Vulcan just stood there, steadily upright with every manner of control that just felt short of being describable as 'stiff'. Jim felt the urge to fidget, mentally kicked himself, and compensated with a slight lift of the eyebrows and an easy smile. The other's response was a much better executed eyebrow raise. If his own eyebrow had a mind, it would be feeling inferior.

Now, there was a strange thought.

"You may be referring to a theorem not frequently employed by the teaching staff in the classroom," came the Vulcan's voice, interrupting Jim's thoughts. "Kholovsky's theorem of certainty and predicted outcomes, perhaps?"

Something in Jim's brain went _click. _The niggling feeling disappeared, and he suddenly remembered. "Applied psychology and mathematics! Module 6 in Intermediate Piloting, of course!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. A few heads turned to look at him in mild accusation, and he lowered his voice. "Ah- sorry. Yeah, that's the one I was looking for. Is there a disc on it?"

"Certainly." The Vulcan replied. He reached up into a nearby shelf and pulled one out. He held it out to Jim, who took it. It didn't look new, in the same way an unused building doesn't look freshly built, but he could tell it had never been on the 'Most Frequently Loaned' list. The Vulcan's first comment only reinforced the thought. Then, "Do you require further assistance?"

"No, that should be all. I couldn't remember the theorem, though it's only been two years.. But that's it, everything else should be fine." He smiled. "I'm writing a simulation report, you see. Thank you for your help, Mr…?"

The implied question was completely ignored. The silence stretched awkwardly… The brown eyes were staring at him again. If it came down to an eyebrow war, he knew he was going to lose spectacularly.

"Ah, well, I'll go write that report." Jim rallied. "Thanks for the disc!" He left the Vulcan standing where he was, and made his way back to where Bones was making good progress. He thought he was imagining it, but the hair was standing on end on the back of his neck, as if he was still being watched. He glanced around, past several sections at the place where the encounter had taken place, but whoever it was, he was gone. _What a strange guy._ Jim found himself wondering about Vulcan customs and protocol; had he insulted him in some way? That was Uhura's area of expertise after all, not his… He hadn't even known there was a Vulcan in the Academy, staff member or otherwise. They had their own academy after all, didn't they?

Jim looked down at his PADD. Snippets of the lecture floated through his mind. It was in his first year at the Starfleet Academy, and he had just gained permission to cut short his Basic Piloting in favour of the Intermediate level. He had been inordinately proud of his knack with a ship's controls, and the professor had been glad to be rid of the cadet that surpassed his own simulation score by 2 percentage points… He had signed the necessary paperwork with obvious relief. And so the next day, Jim Kirk was armed with three signed letters and joined the Second Years for a lecture on Applied Psychology and Mathematics. It was only for simulations and lectures, unfortunately… He still had to sit through the Basic Piloting tutorials. But it would be worth it.

_They won't know what hit them_, Jim thought as he slid the disc into a slot in his PADD, his mind turning to the simulation examiners. _You want a full-length report? I'll give you a full-length report._ _James T. Kirk-style._

When Jim and Bones were leaving the library, the counter was being manned by Simmons, a librarian Jim recognised. The Vulcan was nowhere to be seen.

This was, in fact, due to the individual in question sifting busily through staff records in the staff lounge database. 'Busily' being a word that could be used to describe everything he did, with method and purpose. At the present moment he was drawing up a list of professors and lecturers who taught Applied Psychology and Mathematics two years prior, and cross-checking student data.

It was unorthodox, and completely illogical. Yet strangely fascinating, nonetheless. Kholovsky was as brilliant and obscure as they came.

A door to his left slid open with a barely audible hiss, admitting a short, deceptively mousy individual with sharp eyes. They quickly darted over the Vulcan, taking in his actions. "Mr Spock. Up and about, I am pleased to see. Something bothering you, sir?"

The Vulcan- Mr Spock- looked up. His face was completely emotionless. "My mind is at ease, Mr Brudeau. I merely find myself occupied by an unforeseen matter at hand." He looked back at the records the computer was showing on the screen. "Yet I find myself at somewhat of a loss."

"Looking up some cadets, are you?" he peered at the screen. "Not that I find anything wrong with it, but if you don't mind me asking, Mr Spock, why?"

"A Cadet inquired about Kholovsky's theorem of certainty and predicted outcomes, for his simulation report," the Vulcan called Mr Spock replied smoothly, and the other man looked at him in interest. "As it is referred to in Second Year curriculum, I meant to ascertain the Cadet's identity through lecture records." and inclined his head slightly towards the screen. "There must be some mistake. If the module was taken two years ago, he is certainly a Fourth Year."

The man Mr Brudeau glanced at the screen. "Pas du tout, Mr Spock. Your method is logical, but flawed. If I may." The Vulcan allowed the man to tap something into the computer. A photograph appeared on the screen. "Is that your Fourth Year, Mr Spock?"

The pixels assembled into James T. Kirk's face, smiling lazily into the unseen camera. Mr Spock's eyes, before they slid to the data beside the picture, noted a slight shadow dusting the cadet's cheekbone, as if he had been in a fight. "A Third Year?" His eyebrows knit together almost imperceptibly. Then an asterisk under the column marked 'Modules' caught his eye. "Ah."

"Remarkable cadet, that boy. Memory like nothing I've ever seen," Mr Brudeau rubbed his arthritic knuckles enthusiastically. "I must say I am surprised he remembered the theorem, I am quite sure I did not spend more than ten minutes on it, out of a three-hour lecture. He's writing a report, you say?"

"Indeed."

"I shall make sure to bully Linda over in simulations a little so she'll let me read it," Mr Brudeau cackled. "Good day, Mr Spock." And he let himself out with another soft _hiss_ of the doors.

Silence filled the staff lounge. Then, with a few rapid clicks wiping the screens blank again, Mr Spock went to make some tea.

_James Tiberius Kirk._

There it is, Chapter Two! It's a tad longer than the first, probably because it's more descriptive… Less flirting, more Spock. I hope it's alright.

'Pas du tout': 'Not at all', French. I got his name because I suddenly randomly thought of Amelie, and simplified the name Brodeteau/Brotedeau. Amelie is fantastic

I'm sort of having fun inventing the names of modules and subjects befitting a space academy. Please forgive me if I stray from actual ST reality a little!

Thank you for reading, please review!

~Aiji


	3. Chapter 3

You guys are awesome. –flails- I've been feeling warm and fuzzy inside from all your wonderful reviews! Not to mention pretty darn motivated to keep the story going :)

Fantasia-chan: thanks so much dear, and you will! ^^

Lee Rion: Heehee, I'm glad you did! Spock's eyebrows are in a league of their own :D

Ann: Aye. It's got something in it. -ninja-

FallChild92: I will do my best!

R a a i n: Teehee, he is, isn't he?

~Aiji

Chapter 3

When Jim submitted his report, alongside Bones, he was smirking. The office assistant that took the reports gave him a queer look before hurrying away into the depths of the staffroom, throwing nervous glances behind her. They hovered a little at the front of the office. Jim wasn't driving Bones up the wall for once. There was simply nothing to do outside; it was raining. It had been, for the past three hours, due to what was apparently a sudden squall somewhere from out at sea. The grounds were sodden, and deserted.

"The canteen's packed," Jim grumbled. The Academy wasn't drafty, but the abundance of glass windows with rain slamming down and the pervasive aromas of freshly brewed coffee or hot chocolate were triggering cravings that he decided nobody had the business of having in spring. Even tea would have been welcome, along with a cushy seat in the canteen, wreathed in smells of hot food and hotter drinks. But anyone who had managed to wrest a seat was loath to relinquish it, and Jim knew he'd feel the same way, which wasn't helping at all. "There's nowhere to go. Lessons are over, or cancelled. The weather has a really bad sense of humour." A strong wave of rain swept against a nearby window with renewed vigour. "I might just go and write another report if this goes on."

"If you plan to continue whining, I don't see why not." Bones intoned.

"I wouldn't trust myself to write something ground-breaking. I have no mood."

A third voice sniggered from an adjacent corridor. Both Jim and Bones turned to follow the sound, and the wariness on Bones' face deepened, while Jim's expression shifted to thinly veiled dislike. "No mood, eh? Because you can't find something on two legs to flirt with?" There was a barely perceptible stiffening of Jim's shoulders. "I'd expect you to start hitting on the wall, Kirk. Or find something with four legs instead of two." A Cadet stepped out into view.

"How original, Cupcake." Jim countered in an affable tone. His blue eyes flashed. "While I might be concerned about your health, seeing as you can't count the number of legs of my good friend Bones here, I think I should congratulate you instead." He watched confusion flit briefly across Jason Smith's thick features. "That insult must have taken you hours to come up with. A new record!"

The Cadet's mouth pulled into a snarl; his fist curled and uncurled. "You need someone to beat you up again, Kirk. Just like last time. Do you remember that?"

"I remember you got called off like a dog," Jim replied. His voice was calm, but Bones, sensing impending doom, noted the small changes in him; the tight, controlled twitch in his fingers, the tensing in his muscles, the challenge in his eyes. He supposed he should intervene, though he held no great love for the man Jim called 'Cupcake'. "I'd say we take this outside, but it's raining, and you're not worth the visit to the laundry room."

Several things happened in quick succession. Bones inhaled sharply with the thought _Too late_, Cadet Smith roared and swung his fist, but Jim was already ducking low, grinning, satisfied with his taunts. He landed the first blow in Smith's abdomen, making him gasp, before a left hook connected with Jim's temple, knocking him sideways and off-balance, making him stagger-

There was an exclamation from somewhere, and suddenly hands were pulling him and 'Cupcake' apart, grabbing his forearms and trapping his wrists. He pulled against them momentarily, adrenaline pumping, wanting to land another blow, vent his boredom and frustration, _show him what he thought_… before relenting. His breaths came quick and he glared at his opponent, who had been similarly restrained by a trio of Cadets who, Jim vaguely remembered, specialised in Xenolinguistics.

_Uh-oh._

"I can't _believe_ this!"Uhura strode into view, face flushed and eyes flashing. "You're acting like_ children_!"

"Hear hear," came a low voice from somewhere between Jim's shoulder blades, and he realised Bones was the one gripping his wrists. He gave his shoulders an irritable shake, still glaring at Smith.

"He started it," Jim ground out, sounding childish even to himself.

"He deserved it," Smith shot back. His eyes flicked to Jim's temple and he looked smug. Jim, to his dismay, realized the spot felt numb and uncomfortably sticky.

"Oh, will you both grow up!" Uhura cried. "Who cares who started it! Or what whoever deserves! You're not acting like Starfleet Cadets at all!"

"Hear that, Cupcake? Your sweetheart's not happy."

"Probably because you're still able to talk. I can fix that."

They glared at each other. Uhura threw her arms up in defeat.

"I give up. I give up. Go ahead and kill each other. There will be two less hot-tempered dunderheads in Starfleet, they'll probably thank me."

Behind Jim, Bones squeezed his wrists briefly. "Let it go, Jim. It's not worth the trouble." Jim felt him release his hands. He glanced towards Uhura, who was giving Cadet Jason Smith a pleading look.

"You're right." he said loudly, and all eyes turned to him. Smith's were narrowed, expecting another insult, ready to throw another right back. "Don't know what got over me. Must be the weather. Let me go, please." The Cadets holding his shoulders paused, obviously surprised, but obliged, as he didn't seem to be bent on resuming the fight. Those holding Smith, who was still glaring, did likewise. "I apologise for causing you distress, Miss Uhura, as well as taking up your time. I hope you have a good day." They were staring at him as if he had just recited Klingon poetry. "Come, Bones." He gave a curt nod to the Xenolinguistics Cadets, a wry smile to Uhura, and a 'I-hope-you-rot-in-hell' glare at Smith, who was straightening up. Jim felt bitter satisfaction as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him wince and put a hand tentatively against his abdomen.

He strode down a corridor, Bones hurrying after him. (Bones had half-smiled, half-shrugged apologetically at Uhura, who had answered with an exasperated roll of her eyes, and motioned him to follow Jim, allowing herself a small smile as she did so.)

"What the hell, Jim?"

"Don't talk to me, Bones. I might change my mind and beat the crap out of him."

"He's just baiting you, Jim. You're giving him the satisfaction of making you angry."

Jim considered reminding Bones that Smith had moved first, but thought better of it. He was starting to regret getting into the scuffle at all. "Uhura will never talk to me again," he said half-seriously. She had some sort of weird friendship going on with Smith, tolerating his over-protective tendencies, though it was quite clear how Smith felt about her. Jim could understand that. She was beautiful, smart, unreachable…

"For goodness' sake, Jim, sit down."

"I'm not tired."

"Of course you're not. Let me take a look at that head." Bones procured a small medical kit from somewhere, and shooed Jim onto a bench. He looked up at his friend with a bemused expression.

"If you ever fell naked into a radioactive swamp, you'd still be able to pull a serviceable med kit from somewhere, wouldn't you?" Jim winced slightly as Bones dabbed alcohol-soaked cotton wool onto his temple.

"There's no call for that. I'm just a doctor." Bones replied gruffly.

Jim submitted himself to Leonard McCoy's ministrations, noting just how bloody the cotton wool became. At times like this, he really was glad Bones McCoy was a doctor. They were bound to ask questions at the Academy's medical centre.

"I'll put two stitches on it, just in case."

"What? No!"

"I'll hypo you."

"Fine. Some friend you are."

"Sometimes I wonder why I bother."

"You'd be bored out of your mind without me." Jim replied, eyeing the needle that Bones was now threading.

"Don't tempt me."

When Bones was finished, he plastered a small white filmy something over the wound. "It will heal soon enough. Don't touch it." Jim's hand, raised halfway, dropped again. Bones repacked his kit.

"So what now?"

"What do you mean, what now?"

"It's 3pm. Still raining. I'm not trying to kill anybody." Jim swept his hand at the empty hallway generously. "What now?"

Bones understood. "Let's go to the library." he sighed.

"Alright."

Meanwhile

"Why are you so angry, Linda? As far as I can see, it's a brilliant report." Marc Brudeau said mildly.

"That's not the point! When I read it, I feel like I'm—like he's—"

"Insulting our intelligence?" he provided helpfully.

"Yes!"

"And yet one can't truly pinpoint it. It's not even the tone. Everything is so proper. He does everything; he ties in the objectives, he justifies everything logically, he uses Kholovsky. Perfectly, I might add." He settled deeper into the chair in the staff meeting room and regarded the unassuming PADD on the table, which contained James T. Kirk's report. "Brilliant."

"It's not brilliant! It's like he's giving us the report, just for the sake of giving us the report!"

"Every student does that, Miss Connor." Rotheford Ranchwell, Head of Physics, said gently. "From what I can see, he is just a highly intelligent young man who wants to test boundaries. It is not something we forbid." On the contrary, it was something they tried to encourage. The unspoken sentiment hung in the air.

"But-"

"Sit _down_, Miss Connor. Have some tea. Myself, I am quite curious as to what he will do with himself. He may prove invaluable to Starfleet. I find myself hoping he will outdo his father."

"George Kirk," someone breathed, and a respectful silence settled over the staff lounge. Everybody's thoughts turned to the heroic self-sacrifice of the man, during his brutally short time as Captain, many years earlier.

"Greatness is not genetic," Linda Connor said softly.

"Indeed not. But he has shown great talent and intelligence. His data is quite clear on the matter." The Head of Physics smiled. Then he turned to the one person who had remained silent throughout the debacle. "What is your opinion, Mr Spock? As a former student of this institution?"

"The report is sound. Captain Pike referred him." The Vulcan replied. "It would be logical to trust his judgment."

"I agree. I'm giving it an A. I find no flaw."

And so Jim Kirk ruffled some feathers with his simulation report, Mr Spock returned to the library, and it kept on raining.

~o~

The Starfleet Academy library was a sleek marriage of form and function. It had access from four floors, a central spiral staircase connecting them like a giant spine; seventy-eight sections; and plenty of table space. The tables most often occupied were part of a honeycomb-like installation covering most of the western wall of the library which could be reached by the central staircase and a system of walkways and narrow stairways along the library's west flank. It was an immensely popular addition to the library, installed by the Academy particularly for cadets who were in need of even greater silence than the library at large provided. The partitioned sections, able to comfortably seat four cadets and stacks of work, were quiet, private, and had an excellent view. This inevitably led to a certain kind of misuse, and so each of the little study rooms (alternatively called cells) now also had a closed-circuit camera and stern warnings.

It was into one of these that Jim and Bones settled, each holding on to some discs of interest to while away the afternoon. The rain was still pouring down, but it seemed more bearable with a soft, warm, quiet place to sit. Even if there wasn't any hot chocolate to be had.

It was thus to the great surprise of Leonard McCoy that Jim dived under the table after barely 20 minutes. Bones, who had been reading about the different forms of space madness, eyed the listed symptoms warily. 'Disconnection from reality'…

"I'm not here," Jim hissed from under the table. "I never was, you hear? If you tell her otherwise I'll bite your kneecaps off."

Check. 'Hallucinations', 'violent tendencies', check, check. Bones frowned.

The cell door slid open. Bones looked up and saw green. Green skin, to be exact. Rather a lot of it.

"Hello, Mr McCoy. Is Jim here?"

Only an Orion could make an inquiry about another man sound like an invitation to bed.

Bones could almost hear the tense, pointed silence from under the table. "Is he?" he ventured. He had a sudden urge to scratch his knees. "I don't see him, do you?" Another favour Jim owed him.

"Well no, but he's your friend, I thought he might be with you. Maybe you are waiting for him? Are those his?"

Jim, biting down on his knuckle under the table, supposed she was talking about the stack of discs on his side of the table. "I picked them up for him," he heard Bones lie smoothly. "I'm not even sure if he's coming. Do you mind? I'm working."

"I don't mind at all," came an answering purr, and to Jim's horror, the well-heeled shoes he could only just see went _in_, not out. Then they disappeared entirely, Jim's stack of discs fell over and Bones grunted in surprise. "We could wait for him. You're a doctor… I could play nurse."

_Don'tmakeasounddon'tmakeasounddon'tmakea__**holycrapshe'sseducingBones**__don'tmakeasound—_

Bones moved his foot, which found its resting place on Jim's unfortunate hand. He must have made a sound, because something shifted above him, green fingers curled around the edge of the table and a head of bright red hair appeared.

"Jim! You are here!" Gaila squealed, and giggled. "You weren't hiding from me, were you?"

"Dropped my stylus," he replied weakly, holding it up. In fact it had just remained clutched in his hand in his scramble to get out of sight, but that was an irrelevant detail.

"You could have said something!" she pouted. "Well, never mind that. We can just continue, it will be more fun." Jim had no illusions about what she meant, but oh sweet baby Jesus, someone please _help._

At that very moment, the heavens finally opened up and smiled at James Kirk. In the form of an opening of the cell doors and an unsmiling Vulcan holding a PADD.

The three occupants of the cell stared at him in frozen silence. He regarded them. Leonard McCoy, looking relatively normal as he sat stiffly in his seat, sweating slightly. An Orion Cadet, Gaila, sitting none too modestly on top of the table. Under which was the third member of the party, James T. Kirk, with a strange expression on his face. If Spock had cared to expound on different emotions, he might have described it as horror mixed with guilt and hope.

"Mr Kirk," Spock said, and Jim gave a start. "Your simulation examiner has dropped off your report and expressed the wish that I pass it to you." He inclined his head slightly to the PADD in his hand. Jim's eyes slid to it momentarily, before being dragged back to the Vulcan's chocolate-brown ones. "I will not impeach on your time further, however, I must remind you of the rules and regulations involving the use of these premises." As he said this, Jim noticed his eyes went to Gaila. She drew in a breath, then scurried out of the small room as fast as her heels would allow.

Three pairs of eyes watched the retreating Orion, and only when she stepped onto the central staircase did Jim finally pull himself from under the table. He brushed some imaginary pieces of lint off his uniform, the sound of his hands against the red fabric solitary in the cell. He looked up at the Vulcan's expressionless face as he held up the PADD, meeting those brown eyes, which lingered briefly over his temple.

_Déjà vu_, he thought. He found himself wondering why the image of the Vulcan's long slim fingers holding out the PADD stayed at the front of his mind even as the tall, black-clad Vulcan returned to the counter. He wondered briefly at the unnaturally deep silence. The rain had stopped.

~o~

Oh my, the chapters are getting longer. I apologise for the lack of action between Jim and Spock, I need to get the premise down. I promise more stuff is going to happen soon! There might be some mistakes, I'm sorry for that too, it's wee hours of the morn here and I have to go sleep heh. I really wanted to put this chapter out today.

Regarding Cupcake, he's not actually named in ST… they just refer to him as Burly Cadet #1, poor guy. Jason Smith is the name of the actor who plays him in ST2009. :)

Thanks again for reading! 3

~Aiji


	4. Chapter 4

And here we go, Chapter 4! Hoo. –cracks knuckles- I nearly got a heart attack when I looked at my 'traffic'. I guess more people read on than I thought xD or else Spirk gets lots of love, heehee! So thank you everybody who takes the time to read my story! Reviews still make my world go round though ;)

~Aiji

Chapter 4

Bones' face was one big question mark. Jim knew he owed him an explanation. He didn't know what Gaila had been about to do to the doctor when Bones' foot was introduced to Jim's hand, but he could hazard a guess. It was Gaila, after all. The least he could do was explain why he hid under the table and left him to deal with a libidinous female.

Jim Kirk, hiding from an attractive woman? Unheard of.

He'd like to keep it that way.

"Look, Bones," he started, feeling wretched. "It wasn't supposed to amount to anything, alright? We met at the Galaxus Dinner two months back, and we, uhm, got to know each other a little better afterwards. I wasn't expecting it to continue or anything. To be honest, I think I was a bit buzzed, but she wouldn't let it go."

The look Bones gave him could have drilled through a wall.

"And I was curious, I admit it! You know what they say about Orions. But now she won't leave me alone. She's _pushy_."

"Never expected you to complain about a pushy girl, Jim."

"Me neither." Jim chewed the inside of his lip, feeling awkward. "Look, Bones, I'm sor-"

"Land sakes, Jim, don't apologise to me. Apologise to her. Explain to her what an idiot you are. And be nice about it." Jim nodded, full of dread. Bones wouldn't let it go- and it was not because he knew that Jim would find it difficult, but because it had to be done. Then a thought occurred to him.

"There's something I need to do first." Jim said and slid his PADD onto the table. He was through the door the next moment. He didn't hear Bones' remark, but he was sure it was dripping with Leonard McCoy brand sarcasm.

Down the stairway, to the central stairs, down those too. Base floor. There. Librarian's counter.

The Vulcan librarian was there, reading something on the computer. He looked up, and watched Jim approach. His gaze lingered on the patch on his head.

"Good afternoon," Jim began.

"Is it?"

Drat. This was going to be difficult.

"Let's say it is. I, uh. I need to talk to you." Then, because the Vulcan was still a member of staff, he added, "Sir."

The Vulcan maintained his unblinking gaze on him. Jim had the disconcerting feeling of an equation being analysed, and the uncomfortable urge to fidget returned. "Do you require assistance again?" For a moment Jim wondered whether he was referring to Kholovsky or Gaila.

"No, not as such, no." The extent of the déjà vu was disturbing. But that didn't turn out so bad, did it? His report. Whose grade he didn't check, he realised vaguely. But that wasn't really important. He took a deep breath, keeping his voice low. "I need to talk to you, about Gail- about Cadet Gaila."

The Vulcan's gaze remained steady, so Jim plunged on. "It was a misunderstanding, sir, she is a nice girl really, and I don't want a black mark on her record, she didn't do anything, if you think about it, so could you let her off?" He stopped, inhaled. The Vulcan continued watching him silently. There wasn't even the slightest flicker of emotion, or sign of understanding, accusation, nothing. Just a chocolate stare on a green-tinged blank canvas.

_He's going to mark her down,_ Jim thought suddenly. _He's going to mark her down because she violated the regulations on his shift, and it's my fault. Just because of that stupid Dinner, with the stupid alcohol and the stupid garden…_

He almost didn't hear the librarian through his guilt when he finally began speaking. "-transgressions weren't severe enough to merit disciplinary action, though she would do well to remember the regulations in the future. The library is a place of quiet learning and research, and must remain as such." He paused. Jim realised his mouth was a little open, and he closed it quickly. There was a glint in the Vulcan's eye- amusement? No, he was sure he imagined it.

"So, she's not in trouble?" he asked carefully. It was unbelievable, and more than he had been hoping for. There hadn't even been a need to threaten the lives of close relatives to get his way, or break something fragile and very expensive.

All right, those were just his thoughts getting a little strange again, he wouldn't actually do that, but he couldn't believe that was all there was to it. Maybe there was a catch. Like a couple of hours of library duty. Old O'Donnell would have jumped at the chance to have some young'uns do some work for a change, as he put it. Nobody really minded, usually because they knew they got off easy and that the librarian's back gave him trouble.

It was thus with some suspicion that Jim received the news. He remembered once, O'Donnell had caught him smuggling coffee and a burger into the cells. How he had known, Jim could only guess, as there were no cameras yet in the newly-installed cells, and he had taken great care to pack the food up tight so not even one delicious whiff could betray him. It didn't work, O'Donnell ate Jim's lunch… The man had some kind of in-built radar, and Jim was sticking labels on old tapes for a week. He had been told there would be no repercussions, but there were still strings attached. He had decided not to harp on the technicalities because the elderly librarian was an old bird of the fleet, and told the most fascinating stories. Besides, Jim rather liked him.

"So that's it? No note in the records, no library duty, no errands to run, no library suspension?"

"If you are not content, Mr Kirk, I can make alternative arrangements." There it was again, the elusive twinkle.

"No, no, that's quite alright. That's- perfect. Um." Jim still couldn't believe he and Gaila were scot-free. "You're sure Gaila's not in trouble?"

"_Yes_, Mr Kirk, I am sure."

"But the camera record will still be there."

"That is correct. For any staff member that feels the need to replay it."

"I see." This was great- now all he had to do was talk to Gaila. Which wasn't going to be easy, but at least it wouldn't be as complicated as it could have been. He grinned. "Thank you. I never got your name, sir."

"Gratitude is illogical. I am simply following regulations." The Vulcan replied smoothly. "However, you may call me Mr Spock."

~o~

Gaila was rearranging her closet when there was a knock on her door. She carefully shut a drawer that seemed to hold nothing but colourful string and lace, and went to see who it was.

"Jim," she said in surprise. "Come in! What happened to your head?" Her fingers brushed his temple, then went to the lapels of his Cadet jacket, fingering the small buttons. As he stepped inside, his hands closed about her own and gently tugged them away.

"Gaila. Sorry for intruding, but I have to talk to you."

"You never intrude, Jim." She smiled, but Jim could hear the worry in her voice. "Did he mark you down? Are we in trouble?"

Jim almost smiled, despite himself. She had the exact same concerns as he did. "No, we're not in trouble. But I still need to talk to you."

"Is it about Leonard McCoy? I'll try controlling myself more if you want me to, but I won't promise anything, he _is_ an attractive man."

"No, it's not about him, either. Gaila, it's about me. Us. Look, the Galaxus Dinner was a mistake. You're a really nice person, but I think we should just stay friends." This was a stretch, seeing as they had been introduced at the Dinner and further meetings had almost always involved hopping into bed (or an equivalent), but Jim still didn't want to hurt her by being too blunt.

Gaila was quiet. She searched his eyes, then pulled her hands away, dropping her gaze. She turned away from him, and Jim realised to his horror that she was beginning to cry. He floundered.

"Gaila?" he ventured, and was answered by a shaky sniff. Her shoulders, Jim noticed in mild panic, were trembling. He felt wretched.

He wished the ground would swallow him up.

"Oh, Jim," she whispered through wet hiccups, then pulled out a lacy handkerchief and blew her nose. After a while, she turned back to him; her eyes, red-rimmed, met his. "Jim," she said again. "I've been causing trouble for you, haven't I? I've… I've seen plenty of boys, but they only want me because of my body or because I'm an Orion and they want to know what it's like… And I let them, because what if they're the one?" she half-sobbed, half-laughed into her hankie. "But they never are, and they always leave, and I'm still alone. I never seem to learn."

Jim didn't know what to say. "Gaila-"he began, but she pressed a slim green finger to his lips.

"Shh. I had hoped you'd feel something for me, but I was lying to myself again." The smile on her face was crooked. Even when she was crying, with her mascara all over the place, she was astonishingly beautiful. Jim pulled her into a gentle hug.

"It's okay, Gaila, don't cry. We'll still be friends. I'll be here when you need a shoulder to cry on, how about that?" He stroked the back of her head slowly.

"I'd like that," she mumbled into his chest. They remained like that for a while, before she pushed him away gently. Her eyes, though still bloodshot, were bright. "You are the boy who was nicest to me… I'm _glad_ we were introduced at the Dinner." She palmed away a tear. "Now go already. Before my roommate comes back. Go keep the good doctor company."

"Gaila-" She shushed him, steered him out of the room, and shut the door softly. He heard her blow her nose again.

He would have preferred if she had hit him. It would have made him feel a little better. Instead, he just felt guilty and rather sick of himself as he stared at the blank white door. Rubbing his temples, he walked back towards the library, feet heavy as lead, deep in thought and suddenly feeling tired. She didn't deserve this… In a place full of hormonal boys, where her reputation as an Orion preceded her. When she was just a girl.

He must have had a black face on, because heads turned to follow him as he passed cadets in the corridor. He ignored them, retracing his steps back past the dorms and function rooms. The library doors opened as he approached. His thoughts, buzzing in his skull like bees in a hive, eased slightly as the velvety silence reached out to embrace him.

He acknowledged the librarian Mr Spock with a nod, and then moved quickly towards the western wing. He didn't feel like talking. His tongue felt like a dead, useless thing in his mouth, so instead he concentrated on the liberating feeling of space above his head, where the upper library floors yawned, cathedral-like, up towards the distant ceiling.

He found Bones' cell easily. He looked up at Jim as he entered, opened his mouth to say something. The words got lost somewhere on their way up as Jim slid into his seat, rested his forehead on the dry, papery surface of the table and groaned, "I'm a selfish, miserly berk."

"You don't say."

"I made her cry."

"Then I must say you're right."

"What?"

"About being a selfish, miserly berk."

"Thanks for being my pillar of support, Bones, I feel better already." And he told Bones what had transpired in Gaila's room. At the end of it, Bones looked thoughtful.

"I think she knew what she was risking when she applied to the Academy… But she worked hard to get in and stay in, so the least you could do, Jim, is not pity her. She is strong. Don't do her the discourtesy of thinking she is not."

"I wasn't pitying her."

"No?"

Jim scratched the edge of his PADD with his thumbnail irritably. "Maybe. A little. Yes, alright. But you have to admit her situation kind of sucks."

"It is heartening to see you so concerned with her feelings, Jim. On that note, I suggest you try being a good friend to her, at least."

Jim made a hearty attempt at resentment at the doctor's tone, but found it impossible to maintain. It made sense. Offering friendship to Gaila seemed like the one thing that he did right in the entire blasted affair. He could admit that he loved women- and that he was more proactive than most in seeking their company- but he put that down to simply being Jim. No one was more 'Jim Kirk' than Jim Kirk. Being good with the ladies was part of the pie, so to speak.

He was not sure how being 'gentlemanly' factored into the equation, but it did, and that was that. He sighed, and his eyes slid to the all-but-forgotten PADD beside him. A sleek contraption of metal, plastic and digital know-how, complicated but somehow wonderfully simple. It didn't mind if he spent more time with the library computer console, or if he switched PADDs around a bit. It didn't argue, or follow him around (unless a deadline was right on top of him… then it seemed to be everywhere).  
His grade barely aroused some vague interest, but if it distracted him a little, then that was fine by him. Alphabets and numbers were so much easier to understand. He pulled it over, fiddled a little with some buttons, paused for a second, then put it down again.

"A?" Bones inquired, watching him.

Jim shrugged. "Of course." He had known there was nothing he could be marked down for in the report, he had checked its length twice, just to be sure. Nothing they could point at and go "Ha! That warrants an A-! And this_ here_ makes it a B." If he hadn't been feeling so guilty about Gaila, he would have felt smug. He found himself wondering how the professors' and examiners' reactions had been… He'd write another report in a heartbeat just to be able to see their faces.

The PADD was looking rather innocent and non-descript by his elbow, but he noticed something on its smooth, faintly glowing digital surface. A tap with his stylus revealed it to be an attached note of some sort, written in neat black copperplate. He scanned it quickly, and frowned. "What the hell-?" Bones sent him a questioning glance. Jim responded by flipping his PADD around and showing him the screen. Bones' eyes scanned over what appeared to be a list of book titles and research papers.

"The examiners left a memo?" Bones suggested. Jim snorted in disbelief.

"Why would they? I got an A!" He gave the PADD another baffled look. He took a closer look at the writing. "I haven't even heard of half of these. What's a cross-collupial mystasis?"

"No idea. Further reading, maybe."

"Why would they give me further reading? If they thought my report could be improved, why give me an A?"

"There's always room for improvement," Bones replied evenly.

"I bet they did it just so I'd have more to do. They're sore about my report. Seriously, how high are the sticks up their-"

"You're acting like an infant."

Jim grumbled something incoherent, glaring sourly at the list. There were a dozen titles there at least. He checked his report. A couple of ticks here, a 'Good!' beside Kholovsky, some additional notes. Jim looked back at the memo. No, there wasn't really much correlation. Just a list of foreign sounding names and titles, what the hell. Did they expect him to do something with them? Write another report? Research? Covert assassination?

Or did they just want to pick at his brain? It was an irritating thought. It's not like he was bored or anything- he could think of two dozen things he could be doing, rather than being stuck in the library poring over academics.

Out of habit he scrolled over to the comments at the end of his report. Words like _fresh and original, unconventionality _and_ effective use of theories_ jumped out at him. They sounded hollow and obligatory. Nothing constructive at all, nothing he could really sink his teeth into.

How dull.

The memo dragged at his eyes like a magnet. His afternoon, it seemed, was shaping itself in front of him with no involvement on his part whatsoever. He looked at the untouched stack of discs beside the window. The titles there were familiar- Specifications and Variations in Ship Design, Piloting in Abnormal Conditions, Intra-Ship Stratagems. There was nothing there that was particularly new to him, or that piqued his interest.

Jim inwardly shrugged. He was avoiding boredom rather than conforming to the professors' whims, he told himself. Besides, they didn't _say_ he had to write a report, or summarise a paper, or anything of the sort. This was Jim Kirk doing what he wanted on a spring afternoon when he needed some distractions. If it took a list of names to take his mind off Gaila, then so be it.

"I'll be back," Jim told Bones, who answered with a noncommittal grunt, and left the cell with his PADD under his arm.

~o~

I have no idea what a cross-collupial mystasis is. xD or what it could be. Thank you for reading, please review!


	5. Chapter 5

I think I'll start taking longer with each chapter… I'll try making them longer to have them flow better and make the story better overall, so I'm hoping for one update a week. Let's call it… investment? Hahaha… I want to make this into something I can really be proud of and that you guys will like too. :) and also, as I haven't done this for the previous chapters… **I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters. Like at all. (;_;)**

FuzzySeduction: Wow, thanks for that great review! Imma try harder, I see what you mean… hope this chapter's a bit stronger in that aspect :) Thanks so much!

MyriadProBold: Thanks for the reviews! ^_^ I'm glad you like it so far!

MeEksiNs: less than three!

R a a i n: Ikr, I think it's really sweet. Heheh, thanks!

Ryen Selenity Caliburn and Black-Dranzer-1119: Ho ho! You see right through me ;)

SavvyEnigmaxBanditgal: :3

**Chapter 5**

Jim made a beeline for the librarian's counter. If he was quite honest with himself, he'd admit he had no idea where to start looking within the vast archives for the material the memo hinted on. The last thing he wanted was to browse aimlessly, idling away time and having his thoughts bog him down after they had caught up with him- which they were already threatening to do.

As the counter came into sight, he paused. The Vulcan librarian was there, but not alone, and with his back turned. An impish look stole into Jim's eyes and he sneaked (hopefully) soundlessly towards the counter, while making it look as natural as possible to anyone who might happen to be watching. Beside the black-clad Vulcan was a man, slightly stooped and balding, but radiating authority. He was dressed in the dark navy suit of the medical school staff. As Jim neared, the voice confirmed the man's identity; while he didn't know his name, he recognised the voice from a few chance meetings when he had been waiting for Bones near the medical school in the Academy. Usually it was grating out comments on medical reports in a tone that would have rubbed the bark off trees. One of the head professors.

Jim shifted his PADD into a slightly more secure position, surreptitiously straining his ears while pretending to examine the 'Recommended' rack beside the counter. He wasn't completely hidden, but wasn't standing conspicuously apart to be immediately noticed. "-Not yet complete… Though we have had a considerable amount of help from your compatriots. I recommend you remain here, Mr Spock, while we run some more tests, and then we'll see how things go."

Jim's ear twitched. Tests? How what things go? Wait. Compatriots?

"Thank you. I presume I should continue as I have been for the past week?"

"That would be advisable. I would of course prefer if you didn't leave your quarters at all." Jim heard the reproach in his voice.

"Your concern is noted. However, I assure you that I feel well enough to perform the duties of a librarian."

"So you say, so you say… Just continue with the regular dosage, will you? It would set my mind at ease. If you insist on moving around."

"Of course, Doctor." A pause. "And I indeed insist. It would be logical to make my time as productive as possible."

The other harrumphed. Jim wondered if bad temper was a common denominator for anyone that studied medicine… Bones was certainly a prime specimen. Jim could just see the navy-clad man pass the Vulcan a small bottle of something, which the latter took and slipped into a pouch, which in turn he then laid under the counter. Jim resisted the urge to crane his neck, and instead shifted further behind the rack imperceptibly. "I will get back to you when I receive the results of the test. You will be here, I trust."

"Affirmative."

"I will leave you to do whatever it is that you do here, then. Good day."

"Good day, Doctor."

The man swept off. Jim followed him with his eyes. He would have to ask Bones about him. He felt wary, but almost inappropriately interested. Goodness, he was turning into a snoop, listening discreetly to others' conversations. For shame, James Kirk.

He shifted his eyes and his blue met Vulcan brown.

He was caught completely off guard. _Hands in the cookie jar,_ he thought to himself, grimacing inwardly as the brown eyes bored into his. He considered the most tactical approach… Should he hover at the rack for a couple of minutes? Examine the discs, act nonchalant. He focused on the disc he was holding, and realized belatedly he was holding it upside down. The symbols on it didn't make much sense the right way either. 'Xenolinguistics', the small sign on the rack said. He hurriedly put it back on its slot, slightly mollified by the fact that the Vulcan couldn't see his gaffe from behind the counter.

He pulled his easy smile onto his face. He remembered how jovial and easy the mood between him and O'Donnell had been, and pulled himself together. "Hey, Mister Spock." He shifted from behind the rack as if it was the most natural thing to do and had absolutely nothing to do with him having been discovered listening in on a conversation that was obviously not meant for him. He wondered if it was appropriate to ask how he was, given what he had just heard. Vulcan propriety and all that. Did that extend to health? Did it—

_Ah, never mind. You didn't come to pry… If he doesn't want to discuss it, we won't discuss it._

His subconscious insisted on having a say. _Yet._ He acknowledged this all too readily.

"I require assistance, Mister Spock." Jim said, still smiling. He watched carefully for any body language the Vulcan might let slip… In vain, as his hands were now clasped behind his back, a perfect picture of control.

There was the barest hint of a pause before he replied. "Explain, Cadet."

They were facing each other now, with the counter between them. Did Vulcans feel enough to be miffed at an overheard conversation? Well, that wasn't his problem. He just came down to have the librarian do his job. It wasn't like he went down the stairs hell-bent on eavesdropping on the Vulcan's medical history, or whatever it was that was being discussed.

The cat of curiosity inside Jim opened one lazy eye, and flicked its tail. It preened a little. _I have the support of your subconscious, _it seemed to say. _You might as well give it up, buddy, you're outnumbered._

Jim tried to ignore it. He deftly manoeuvred the PADD from under his arm and showed the Vulcan the screen, just as he had done with Bones. "It seems the professors left me with something. I have no idea what these are, and I'd appreciate it if you'd help me. Since this is your kingdom."

The Vulcan's eyebrow levitated skywards at the last remark, and his eyes scanned the list. Jim expected some sign of surprise at the very least, at what was clearly either over-enthusiasm or blatant sadism on the professors' part, but he was disappointed. There wasn't anything he could latch onto to read beyond the mask presented to him.

"These titles are quite… extensive. Do you have a preference as to which you would like to begin with?"

"Wha—Extensive?" Jim repeated. As in, really long? Bugger the professors, did they want him to carry a portable library in his head? He made up his mind quickly. "I'll just start with the first one, whatever that is. I'll wait and see about the rest."

"Very well. The first title on this list is a theory paper on relative astrophysics. This way, Cadet."

Jim considered whisking the pouch out from behind the counter to get a look at the bottle, but thought better of it. He'd be blatantly rude to people who gave him a reason to, like Cupcake for instance. Testing the extent of Vulcan pacifism against the importance of the bottle's contents was something he suddenly felt very disinclined to do, unless given a good enough reason.

No, curiosity did not qualify as a good reason, thank you very much.

~o~

It was approaching dinner time when Bones found Jim. He had pulled up a chair to the counter, and was poring over a PADD, a small furrowed line on his forehead belying intense concentration. Occasionally he would consult the Librarian, there would be a brief exchange, and he would return to his PADD, perhaps scribble something, cross something out, or make some notes. Bones hadn't seen him so absorbed for a long time. It was so rare, in fact, that he hesitated disturbing Jim, but the part of him that knew skipping meals was not going to do his friend a favour won over.

"Hey, Jim. Coming for dinner?"

Jim looked up. He had to pause to unwrap his mind from around the equation used by the author of the astrophysics paper to explain a theory, and tune it to his friend's voice. The problem was... fascinating. It had four sub-equations and as many variables, which meant that Jim's mind was firing on all pistons working it out, and _damn_ it felt good. His stomach, however, had been neglected and was now starting to make itself known. Dinner sounded like a great idea.

"Just a sec, Bones." Jim said. Leonard McCoy saw him save whatever it was that he was doing. Mathematics or physics, by the look of it.

"Well, that's that then," Jim grinned. "Thanks for the clarifications, Mister Spock. I'll see you round." The addressed inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"If you have further enquiries, I will endeavour to answer them."

They left the Library. Jim caught Bones' eye as the latter handed him his shoulder bag, into which he slipped his PADD. "What?" he laughed.

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering how you had managed to pal around with a member of a species known for _not_ palling around."

Jim laughed again. "I'm not sure I'd call it palling around," he replied, still chortling. "He explained some things to me. It was pretty neat."

Actually, he considered it probably best not to tell Bones about the calm that almost seemed to radiate from the Vulcan. There was something about him that just made Jim's mind focus to a point, his usually wandering thoughts surprisingly grounded. He thought he could attribute it to the equation he had been working on, but that just didn't seem right.

It did puzzle him. Maybe it was a Vulcan thing. That would explain it, since he had never met a Vulcan before, and all he knew of the race was some vague points of interest… Their strength, for instance. Emotionlessness. (God, what a word.) Little-understood mental capabilities and intelligence. That was probably it. Maybe it rubbed off on you if you were doing work, or something. That would be useful during an exam… not that Jim needed it, of course.

He wasn't all that bothered that the professors had dumped all that material on him any more. It seemed like they had known what they were doing, even if what he had seen so far from the material seemed pretty irrelevant to any stuff he was going to be writing anytime soon. Maybe they could tell how bored he was. Maybe they had taken notice of how spring had come around and wanted to keep him indoors as much as possible. Which by extension meant female Cadets in short skirts. He dismissed this thought; while such sentiments would not be unfounded, there had never actually been any complaints. He smiled smugly at this thought.

"How was that med stuff you were reading up on?" he asked instead, changing the topic.

"Ah, that. More space ailments, more reasons to not go in space. I won't bore you with the jargon, but generally it was about different types of space sickness which share fever as a symptom."

"Interesting, is it?"

"If you're idea of 'interesting' involves giving you more reasons to stay on good old Earth, yeah. Very interesting, actually." The distaste he held for outer space was clearly audible in his voice.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Bones," Jim laughed. "Won't be that long before you have to put all that 'interesting' knowledge to good use, eh?"

Bones snorted. "Be sure not to catch anything, or I'll take pleasure in sticking you so full of hyposprays that you'll be leaking lexotocin for a week."

"I won't hold you to that, Bonesy… You know I want to be where the action is. Wherever it is."

"Typical. And I suppose you want me to patch you up from any mess you'd gotten yourself into."

Jim paused in his stride towards the canteen. "I think you've known that for a while now." Bones looked into his friend's face, saw the smile and the bright eyes. He sighed.

"I did. But I think I'm going to need a lot of hyposprays."

Jim stepped into the canteen, still smiling slightly, closely followed by Bones. There were no empty tables, but Jim sat down with a group of Zoology-majoring Cadets he had somehow contrived to know, and Bones joined him. Dinner was goulash with bread dumplings.

Satiated with a full stomach and sipping tea in a gradually emptying canteen, Jim broached a subject he had been wondering about.

"Bones."

Leonard McCoy squeezed a lemon slice into his tea with a look of intense concentration. "What is it, Jim?"

"I'm wondering. The Librarian's got me interested in differences between Vulcans and humans. Has the med school got anything on the subject?"

"Not much beyond what you'd find in the Library." Bones replied, and Jim was aware of acute disappointment. "You won't find much on biology and physiology, Vulcans keep mum about all that, and pretty much most of anything to do with them. What we know is what they let us know, really."

Jim stared into his mug, watching the scraps of tea leaves swirl around the bottom. Maybe what it took would really be stunning discourtesy, then…

"It's funny though, that. Med school might have more to offer on that particular subject soon, if of course it gets permission.."

Jim looked up quickly. "What do you mean?"

Bones, who had been rubbing his upper lip thoughtfully, suddenly looked uncomfortable. "We-ell. As a matter of fact… Actually I probably shouldn't be letting this on. In fact I'm quite sure I shouldn't…"

A quick pulse of excitement ran through Jim, like that of a greyhound who's stumbled onto a trail previously thought lost. "Come on Bones. Spill it. Tell me tell me tell me." He still looked uncertain, but Jim could feel him breaking down, his icy block of secrecy melting under Jim's blowtorch of enthusiasm. What he needed was a finishing move, a last cast of the dice, the proverbial throw of the hand of cards onto the table, to seal the deal.

Nothing sufficiently suitable, unfortunately, seemed to present itself. Well.

"You can have my lemon slice, Doc."

Bones laughed, and Jim knew it was in the bag. He passed the doctor the lemon segment and watched him squeeze it into his tea.

"Well. No harm in telling, I suppose." He eyed Jim. "But if this starts going round the Academy, you _will_ be in trouble."

"I'm counting on it, Bones. The sacrifice of my lemon slice has to be worth it." he grinned. Bones took his time with the tea, stirring in the lemon juice deliberately. He took a sip. A long sip. He eyed Jim over the rim of his mug, eyes twinkling, and Jim groaned.

"You're killing me, Len."

~o~

Ba-BAMMM! Sort-of-cliffhanger? Bohahaha. Time to get the ball, rolling, I say. I have a feeling I won't be able to come up with something unexpected enough, you guys seem to see right through my head xD Thanks for reading, I'll try getting the next chapter up soon! Please review! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Hello hello! I'm sorry I'm a bit late with this chapter… I got rather stuck halfway. And then I celebrated my friend's birthday by staying up playing bridge all night, and I crashed completely the next day, heh! Nobody ever needs to worry about me gambling, I suck. I'll stick to playing Uno :D I hope I made up for it by making this chapter longer, I'm not very satisfied with it though… oh well. Bear with me guys, before I get the next chapter up. And please review, even if it's to say how bad this chapter is, maybe it will make me write the next one better! –shot-

R a a i n: The tea will just be a bit more… tangy? Not bitter :) and randomly, it's a great remedy for colds! :D

FallChild92: -gigglesnort- evil Bismark donut. I like! BD

Thanks so much everybody who reviewed! I lubbs you alls. *3*

~Aiji

Chapter 6

"You're killing me, Len."

"It has to be worth it," Bones retorted, and eventually put the drained cup down. He frowned a little. "It was a couple of weeks back. Doctor Broum-" _That's the guy's name, yeah,_ Jim thought, remembering the navy-clad man in the Library. "-had not turned up for the xenobiology lecture. Some other guy went instead." His brow furrowed as he recalled the events. "Broum called up a couple of people afterwards, all medical officers as far as I could tell, said there was something that needed doing."

"You were one of those medical officers."

"Of course I was, I wouldn't know this otherwise. So he calls us up, right, and he says the VSA has kindly given us a rare package of data that is pretty important to our database where it comes to Vulcan medicine. And he said that it was a rare opportunity and he'd never let us waste it."

He was quiet for a moment. "He said we'd be running tests with varied data, on a specific Vulcan ailment, and produce the appropriate medicine. And we did. Under the strictest supervision I've ever been under, and we weren't to share this with others. I'd guess the VSA was pretty reluctant to give that data up."

The wheels were turning in Jim's head. "Probably. So, what was this ailment?"

"An allergic reaction," Bones replied promptly. "Theoretically, it's supposed to throw some glands out of whack. Fever is an important indicator in the initial stages. It tones down eventually, and from the tests we've run, there are meant to be some behavioural anomalies… Temporary, of course."

"Of course. Going well, is it?"

"As well as any simulated medical run could hope to go. Broum is estimating two more weeks till we can conclude it."

"As he should, no doubt. You make the medicine, you say?" Bones nodded in reply. "Any idea where it goes? After you're done with it?"

"Broum takes it, probably for analysis. It's part of how we're graded, you know."

Jim was aware of that, in a vague sort of way. He wasn't a doctor, and the only science that interested him would be physics and those parts of chemistry that taught you how to make something that exploded. ('Taught' was probably not the right word… but the 'Danger- Flammable/Explosive' warning tag was indication enough) "… Yes. Yes, I know. And this Broum guy. He's got a reputation?"

"Oh yeah. He's cured more aliens than you'd be able to phase in a day."

"That's a lot of aliens."

"Yeah." He looked at Jim. "Is the interrogation over? Why ask all these questions, Jim?"

"Uh. Curiosity?" His sheepish grin slipped as Bones snorted and waved a hand dismissively.

"Bullshit. We both know you don't bother with the med side much. Why now, all of a sudden?"

Jim didn't answer. Unease filled him on the thought of telling anybody what might well be the Vulcan's secret… Why else keep the medical Cadets in the dark? It would make sense to keep them as serious as possible, which no doubt they would be if they knew they were actually treating a Vulcan... So did that mean there was something else? The determination apparent on Bones' face ruled out any lie or half-truth he had any hope of slipping through. He gave in. "The specifics of your simulated medical run, the height would be around six feet? Bed rest recommended, but not being strictly followed?"

"Well yes, but why would…" Bones stopped in mid-sentence, and Jim watched the doctor catch on. "No."

"Oh yes."

"You cannot think it's for the Librarian?"

"That's exactly what I think. Why is there suddenly a Vulcan on the library staff?" Now that it was out, he wanted to discuss his theory. "Why would Broum give him a bottle full of something and talk about 'dosage'?"

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Jim. What dosage?" He listened to his quick explanation. "Running more tests? He said that?"

"Yeah. It fits perfectly with your med run! Can't you see? That medication was for the Vulcan! Didn't you think it strange that a Vulcan was on the Library staff, anyway?"

Bones looked doubtful. "But Jim, why would they go the trouble of keeping it hidden? That makes no sense. It would make the lives of everybody easier if they were just straightforward about it. It's not like it was a… a military secret, or something." Jim paused- Bones had struck on the one thing he couldn't understand or fit in into his theory. It's not like an allergic reaction was something ruinous. Jim would know; he always kept a couple of hypoallergens handy, and Bones had learned to do the same.

They sat in silence.

~o~

The next day, Jim was in the Library again. Bones was at a medical class, and Jim had two hours to kill before his next lecture. "Good afternoon, Mister Spock."

The Vulcan looked up from the counter.

"Greetings, Cadet."

"How are you feeling today, then, sir?"

Jim had meant it as simple small talk. He wasn't entirely ready for the awkward silence that followed.

"Enquiring after the well-being and health of an individual as a form of greeting is illogical." Jim frowned slightly at this- a "Fine, thank you" was a perfectly okay answer, even if he wasn't sure just how accurate it was in the Vulcan's case. His way of speaking would take some getting used to, as well.. As far as Jim was concerned, greetings were never meant to be logical. You asked someone how they were because it was polite, not because you wanted them to tell you about everything that was NOT fine in their universe. Though Jim wouldn't have minded if the Librarian had said something about that. He considered asking Mister Spock about the medicine outright. It was a more attractive option compared to the other one of tiptoeing around the pink elephant and constantly worrying if he had toed the line or pranced across it obliviously, twirling to the Andorrian polka. Would he tell Jim himself?

Not as such, no.

Jim grabbed the back of a chair and pulled it up to the counter again. He took out his PADD next, calling up the equation from the previous day and readying his stylus. He had been looking forward to finishing it. He reviewed the last few steps, let the next step form in his mind, and started juggling numbers.

~o~

The day after that was beautiful. It was also a Saturday, so after the morning guest lecture, the Starfleet Cadets were free to pursue whatever weekend plans they might have. The Academy grounds were alive with young men and women enjoying the warming day. The grass was cool and many a Cadet had pulled out a mat to sit on and relax.

Jim felt the promise of sun pull at him the moment he escaped the lecture hall. It was something in the way the rays slanting through the glass windows and panelled ceiling seemed to beckon to him, like to a flower starved of light.

He realised he had just compared himself to a plant.

The air was wonderfully fresh on his face as he stepped out of the main building alongside Bones. It smelled like the sea, and grass. He took a deep breath above the main steps appreciatively.

"Would you smell that air," Bones intoned. "You don't get this sort out in space. The oxygen on life support isn't the same."

Jim agreed. The weekend and the weather seemed to be conspiring to sabotage Jim's coherent thought abilities though. "You're a plant too, Bones."

"What are you on about, Jim?"

"Oh, more unrelated and random thoughts. You'll sprout stomata any second, I expect." Bones would be an unflowering sort, he decided. With medicinal properties, growing best in soil treated with bourbon, and an affinity to fresh air.

Bones gave Jim a Look. It spoke vaguely of hyposprays.

Jim spotted a certain dark-skinned, long-haired Xenolinguistics Cadet near the promenade. "Uhura is obvious- she's a rose." Jason Smith swaggered nearby. "Cupcake is some kind of cactus. The puffy, ugly kind." He treated Bones to a running commentary of the Cadets he knew and their botanical counterparts. The guest lecturer, from Corius IV, had looked like a cauliflower. He flirted with a trio of second-years, and in a flash of inspiration called them 'desert beauties in bloom'; they tittered and blushed. He put the comment away carefully into his already formidable repertoire of 'Flirts, Complements, and Pick-up Lines'.

They strolled along the promenade. "Any plans for today?" Jim asked. "I know an interesting place we could head to later, but they won't be open so early." Dragging an extremely reluctant Bones to a night of hard partying wasn't everybody's idea of fun, but Jim got a kick out of it every time. Unfortunately he never managed to stay sober long enough to get Bones hooked up with some alien chick (there were always plenty of them around, what with the Academy and the space port nearby) since Bones always managed to drink him under the table first. Whatever drink the doctor ordered for him was practically certified to be worth it, but he couldn't count on being lucid an hour later. Especially when the damn drink was so good he just _had_ to order five more.

"More of your weird taste in night life? I had to self-medicate for a week and a half the last time I went to a club with you. I'm sure that thing they did with the olives wasn't legal."

Jim smiled at the memory. It was definitely not legal, and it wouldn't be something you told your grandchildren, but hey, you only live once.

"I'm sure the new place is more legal."

"Anything would be more legal."

"It will be fun." Jim said happily. "You can get all the bourbon you like. Then it won't matter whether you grow stomata or not."

Bones snorted. "We'll see about that. I heard there's some sort of festival downtown… We could check that out."

"Good idea! We can get to know more people. _Then_ we hit the clubs." Jim was grinning. He was taking Bones to 'hit the clubs' even if the doctor said to climb Everest first. It was his own fault for making such a fuss, it only made it more fun for Jim to drag him there. Besides, it was a good place to meet adventurous ladies, and Jim really thought Bones needed a woman in his life (heck, he could have a man for all it mattered, but _someone_) and he'd be damned if he played wingman to Bones and someone boring. He wouldn't trust anyone else to pick a match for Bones… So taking Bones himself was the best solution, even if he had to drag him by the back of his shirt.

They left the grounds quickly, leaving the Cadets to their frolicksome revelries and heading into the city. The pounding beat that he could feel through his bones rather than hear through his ears led them to the large white tent set up outside a park. It was some sort of street music marathon thing, probably with some worthy cause or another stated in the objective and to attract sponsors, but with a crowd that couldn't care less about the worthy cause as long as the music kept playing and the lucky draw kept handing out prizes. How the hell could an event raise money for something when it gave away money like that?

The festival itself wasn't bad. There was loud music, free food, and lots of people, except it was there that Jim became aware of a growing unease, like an itch he couldn't quite reach. He took notice of it when he was watching a raffle and a bunch of guys were disappointed they didn't win. "I was_ certain_ I'd get that bike, goddammit," he heard one bald, ripped guy say (the prize in question was a rather flashy motorcycle with way too much shiny metal dangling around the handlebars) and his friend replied something about probability.

Jim's mind flashed to Kholovsky. The theory couldn't be used in such a situation, of course… A raffle was pure chance, no decision-making was involved, no matter how badly the bald guy wanted the bike. His so-called 'certainty' was just greed and arrogance mashed together. From Kholovsky his thoughts turned to his work in the Library, but they didn't stay there long… Inexplicably they settled on the Vulcan Librarian. Pale green skin, slim long-fingered hands lingering over a PADD, pointed ears-

What?

Wait, hold on, back up, _back up_.

The world, which had gone silent in Jim's head for a moment, crashed back into sound. Pounding music, event hosts winding up the greedy crowd, laughter, people shouting over each other. Jim stood stock still, staring unblinkingly ahead, wondering what the hell that was. Well, he knew what it _was._ But why? So unexpected… It wasn't like he loved looking at the Librarian. He didn't swing that way.

Alright, maybe not all of that was entirely true. The Vulcan was kind of nice to look at. He was, if Jim really had to find a word, pretty. No guy should have hands so slim or eyelashes so long, for instance. Why Jim had noticed those, he didn't even know. It was probably because of all the times the Librarian gave him the Stare. Closely followed by the Eyebrow. After which would come what Jim might call a Long, Meaningful Silence. With which Jim might be bothered, if he cared enough to care.

Speaking of stares.

"You got a problem, bud?"

Jim focused on the face of the man who had spoken. It was the bald guy with bad luck. Normally he could understand people being in a rotten mood after a big disappointment, but the look he was giving Jim made him slowly and deliberately put reasoning aside, for later use. There must be a factory somewhere, pressing burly men into 'Cupcake' tins.

"Do I?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bones look around and start pushing his way to his side.

"You starin' at me? Think it's funny that I didn't win, do ya?"

The crowd around them eased, the tight press of bodies moving away on the unerring instinct of impending doom. Jim found himself standing at the edge of a small empty space with the bald man on the other side. Behind him were three of his friends, looking more like they had been hewn than born. One of them slammed a meaty fist into his palm. "Fight!"

Jim felt someone push against his side, and turned to see Bones. "What the hell? You can't stay out of trouble for even one day?"

"I zoned out a bit, that guy seems to think I was staring at him. Stupid bugger."

The host was only just realising that he didn't have the crowd's attention anymore. He made some attempts to draw them back, then gave up. Jim was circling now, all attention fixed on the small mountain in front of him. He hadn't been looking for a fight, it was a Saturday and he wanted to chill, damn the man. And he felt ill at ease in his own skin, for some reason. He didn't want to be here.

But this was a challenge and Jim Kirk never refused a challenge.

The man lunged, and the small circle opened up like a flower as the people along the edge pushed back. Jim ducked and rolled, knocking the bald man's legs from under him, making him crash down hard. There were some 'oohs' from the crowd; someone clapped. He rolled onto his own feet and crouched, waiting for the other, who was sprawled at the feet of the crowd after crashing against them, to rise. The man pulled himself to his feet, face tight, and stepped forward again, with his fists at the ready. Jim got ready to deal him a nice uppercut.

The man stopped. He stared at Jim in momentary confusion, then folded to the ground with a soft sigh.

Confusion spread outwards, with mutters of "What happened?" and "Dunno, the guy just collapsed," rippling through the crowd. Some onlookers were looking at Jim with awe. Jim's own confusion and slight worry that the guy had just gone into cardiac arrest cleared when he saw the brief flash of a needle as Bones, who had been standing behind his opponent, surreptitiously slipped an empty hypospray into his pocket. He made a face- Bones rolled his eyes and glared at him in a long-suffering, you-always-make-trouble-for-me way. The event host, sensing that the disturbance was ending, made a spirited attempt at getting everyone's attention back by plunging his hand into the glass bowl full of ticket stubs and announcing the proud winner of an all-expenses-paid holiday to luau in Hawaii. The unconscious would-be fighter was carried with some trouble by his friends to the first-aid tent, where he regained consciousness ten minutes later.

Jim poured himself a cup of coffee at the buffet table. Bones joined him, holding a fruit cup. They stood beside each other in silence. "Let's beat it," Jim suggested.

"Nah, I'm enjoying myself." Bones replied dismissively. Jim shot him a look. "Well, where to?"

"Dunno. Wherever."

They ended up walking through a large part of the downtown area, visiting old pawnshops, antique bookstores, a café, and a park, where they sat enjoying the afternoon sun. Jim tried to, at least. He felt like he was in a hurry, though he had no plans. He scuffed his shoes on the gravel under the bench. "Let's head back," Bones said, slightly exasperated with Jim's inability to stay still, after the latter had started breaking small twigs off a nearby bush and shredding them into the smallest possible pieces. Jim agreed readily.

Back at the Academy, Jim wasted no time in returning to the Library. He finally felt like he would be able to scratch the proverbial itch he had been nursing for half a day, and the weight of his PADD on his arm was comforting. Maybe he could even wring out a half-decent conversation from the Librarian.

Who wasn't there. The counter was, once again, empty.

Jim wondered where the Librarian could be. He vaguely remembered that Library staff only got Sundays off, and even so, mostly spent it in the Library… So he was probably making his rounds. Well, he could wait.

As Jim was pulling up his chair, he accidentally knocked into small, elongated box, which slid smoothly across the counter and scattered spare styluses over the floor. He bit back his irritation at himself and the irate looks from nearby Cadets, and walked past the 'Staff Only' sign and barrier. He gathered them back into the box and was about to put it back when he saw the pouch.

It was on the shelf under the counter, right where the Vulcan always put it. Jim stared at it. He looked over the counter. When the Librarian was nowhere in sight, he quickly pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a small bottle made of brown glass, with a neat label and half full of round pills. Jim squinted at the label. He couldn't read it, it wasn't in any language that he knew. Vulcan?

He put the bottle and pouch back quickly, grabbing the stylus box as he did so. He slid past the barrier, past the counter and into his chair. Not a moment too soon, as the Librarian emerged from a distant Library section seconds later and joined him at the counter after a brief greeting.

That evening, after dinner, Jim found the Translator in the database of the Cadet server on his computer. He had copied down the symbols as best as he could from memory, and since he had no idea how to pronounce the words, he spent twenty minutes painstakingly entering them manually. He took a deep breath, and hit 'Translate'.

_Cushion disassemble blue flightless bird._ "The hell?" He stared at it. Then he rearranged some of the spaces.

Bingo. _Ascorbic acid allergy medication._ The four words winked up at Jim from the screen. "Well, whaddoyouknow. Mister Spock is allergic to grapes." he said softly to himself.

~o~

Phew! Yeah that's chapter 6!

About Jim's little thing of comparing people and plants… it doesn't really have deeper meaning. It's just one of those little things, hahaha. Can anyone guess what plant I think Spock would be? xD

The type of acid found in grapes really is ascorbic acid… we learned it in General Science like, six years ago for chemistry? Lordy, my memory is so random. But yes. It was probably anti-climatic, but I really don't want to make it anything too serious that would be excessively AU and weird, hahahaha…

Jim keeps getting into fights. Poor fella. It doesn't help his mood, but at least it makes him go back to the Library, yeh yeh :D –is evil-

'frolicksome revelries' is from the awesome Shoebox Project. :) credit to creators!

Alrightey, please review! Even if it was bad ;3;

~Aiji


	7. Chapter 7

**I apologise for the late-ish update :( university applications are sucking the life out of me! It's so hard picking out unis in Europe that have decent arts and humanities/social sciences programmes in English for international students… Gosh. I'll be glad when this is over! I'm getting my exam results in the first week of March, oh my gawd –bites knuckle- I WISH FEBRUARY HAD MORE DAYS. LIKE, SIXTY. OR SEVENTY-EIGHT. WHY CAN'T FEBRUARY HAVE SEVENTY-EIGHT DAYS? I am totally calm. Not freaking out at all, no. Deep breaths. Ffffhhhnnnnnnnnnn –inhales-**

**On with the story! Jim knows Spock's secret, and continues with his visits to the Library! What will happen next? :D Jim Kirk, Spock and Star Trek do not belong to me!**

~o~

A week later, Jim was comfortably settled into what, for lack of a better word, could be called a routine. Any break between periods longer than forty-five minutes would see him take his PADD to the general vicinity of the Library counter, either at one of the nearby tables, or (if the content on the PADD was particularly tricky) at the counter itself, on a borrowed chair, so that he wouldn't have to keep getting up and sitting down to ask something like a jack-in-the-box.

Today, however, Jim was feeling a little on edge. He had been staring at the same sentence on his PADD for ten minutes, and nothing was registering. He might as well have fallen asleep with his eyes open, which Jim was not even remotely close to.

"Cadet?" came a soft, inquiring voice. Jim, affixed on a word in the sentence ('the'), took a moment to look up. Mr Spock was looking at him. During the past week, Jim had come to the conclusion that 'looking' was interchangeable with 'staring' when it came to the Vulcan… There was something about how he could give you his undivided attention. Currently, his eyebrows were arched slightly… Well, they were arched slightly beyond the usual, which was an angle you could bend metal over.

"I'm a little distracted today, Mr Spock." That was something of an understatement. He was so distracted he wouldn't take notice if his PADD sprouted legs and walked away.

"Indeed. You have not progressed in the reading of that tactical assessment for the past eleven point three four minutes."

Jim smiled at this. "I guess I haven't. But I have a good excuse. I mean reason."

This was true. The reason that Jim had been swanning* was that he had put his name down for a simulation taking place the next day. This in itself was not much to get excited about, a Cadet went through dozens of simulations… But this one was different.

The Kobayashi Maru.

The name itself sent a thrill of excitement through Jim. The infamous mother-of-all-simulations. The Big One. The simulation, almost a rite of passage, known for reducing even stalwart Cadets to a bundle of nerves, speechless, at a loss of what to do in the captain's chair while they were pulverized by a squad of Klingon cruisers. No one had ever beat it, a fact Jim had every intention of changing the next day.

"I've put my name down for the Kobayashi Maru," he said simply. He doubted much explanation was needed. Even the canteen lady probably knew about the Kobayashi Maru, or alternatively That Infernal Simulation, as many Cadets referred to it after their failure, while queuing up for their dinner.

The Vulcan's expression did not change. "I see."

"I can't wait to beat it."

Up went the eyebrow. "You are aware of the 100% failure rate?"

"Of course. There must be something they've missed." Jim replied dismissively. "I'm going to find it, and I'm going to beat that test."

The other eyebrow followed. Then they lowered simultaneously, and the Vulcan turned back to his PADD. Jim watched him with narrowed eyes, the challenge rising in him, unbidden.

"You don't think I can do it."

The Vulcan looked up. "It is logical to include the statistical probability of success when reaching a conclusion. I have weighed the probability-" Jim pursed his mouth. "-and I have reached a conclusion."

They watched each other. Jim tapped his knee with his stylus. "The last thing you should do around me, Mr Spock," he said, "is make your own conclusions."

_* a term Jim learned after it was used by Bones to describe the state of something being calm on the outside but a flurry of activity underneath; like a peaceful-looking swan swimming like heck under the water._

~o~

There was something he had missed.

That was the only way Jim could explain it. But where? When? He had run the simulation through his head dozens of times from start to finish, right up to the point where the monotone beep had indicated his ship had been destroyed. But there was nothing. The whole simulation was incredibly tight.

There _had_ to be something. Jim bit viciously into his bran muffin.

Was it the decision to enter the Neutral Zone to rescue the Kobayashi Maru? Or the moment the hull was breached? Maybe there was a point where the Klingons' shields weren't up?

Jim stood by his decision to enter the Neutral Zone, so it had to be the hull, unless the ship sensors were faulty… That would be such a dirty trick by the examiners he could just imagine the offices being stormed by incensed legions of Cadets demanding justice. Besides, a Captain had to trust in his ship. So, the hull. It crippled his shields, so he couldn't do anything when the Klingon reinforcements came. But his hull was damaged by the entry into the zone. Did that mean he'd have to remain outside it to beat the simulation? Leaving the Kobayashi Maru to fend for itself, facing certain destruction?

No, no way. The mission was to _rescue_ the ship, and he sure as hell couldn't do any damn rescuing by waiting along the side-lines. So that couldn't be the way. He regarded the half-eaten pastry in his hand thoughtfully.

The problem with simulations was that the programming was very precise- if you missed the crucial point, _bam!_ you failed. That one turning point was the 'make or break' factor, and the fail rate just proved how tiny that crucial point was. Hadn't Jim missed it too?

_Damn_. So frustrating. He could just see the knowing looks on everyone's faces when they heard he had failed the simulation too… Maybe being so vocal about his intention to beat it had not been such a swell idea. Even the Librarian… _"I have reached a conclusion." _Hah! Well, he'd show them. _Conclusion my ass._ He would beat the simulation, even if it took a second try. Heck, even a third…

He vengefully chewed the last of the muffin. This all meant, of course, that his record was tarnished. He had managed to find the crucial point in all the previous simulations; things like a phaser burnout, a blind spot caused by a passing asteroid, a magnetised system anomaly… There had always been something that he could use.

He passed his empty tray to the canteen lady. "Don't think about it too much, dearie," she told him kindly. He smiled back at her.

"Thanks, but no can do, Mrs Beeswell." He shrugged. "I'll work it out." He left the canteen, but not before hearing a few comments and resulting sniggers that followed him out and made him grind his teeth together. He'd _show_ them…

His feet took him automatically to the doors of the Library, where he hesitated for a moment. Then he mentally kicked himself. Jim Kirk didn't avoid anybody. He knew he could count on the Librarian's poker face being in place, but the fact that the Vulcan would not show any smugness did not make him feel much better.

He pulled a chair up to the counter with practiced ease, and sat. "Good afternoon, Mr Spock."

"Greetings, Cadet."

Jim waited. He watched a couple of female Cadets sorting through some discs until they noticed, blushed and hurried down an aisle, whispering in hushed excited tones. The silence between him and the Librarian stretched, and Jim looked back at him, brow creasing minutely. Was this guy seriously going to just sit there and stay silent?

"Well?" Jim asked impatiently. Mr Spock looked up and met his eye.

"Cadet?"

His voice sounded completely neutral. As if nothing notable had happened recently at all. That ground into Jim's nerves hard. He folded his arms.

"Aren't you going to ask me how the simulation went?" He momentarily regretted not being able to raise his voice because of course they were still in the Library, but damn, he wanted to be loud. He knew he must sound like a petulant child, but that silence was louder than any snigger he had gotten.

Mr Spock looked at him. "That would be illogical, Cadet, as I already know the outcome."

Jim felt anger close around his lungs like a giant fist. There it was again, the expectation that he would fail. Heat washed over the back of his shoulder and he dug his nails into his forearms before forcing himself to relax his hands. He could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. He pushed his chair back and manoeuvred it back to its table. "Excuse me, _sir_."

The Librarian was staring at him again. "Are you unwell, Cadet?"

Jim, who had been turning towards the Library doors with every intention of striding through them before he did something he would regret later, shrugged the question off. "I am perfectly fine."

"Your breathing is more shallow and at an elevated rate compared to regular levels."

"My breathing is none of your business, Mr Spock. I'll hyperventilate if I damn well want." What kind of normal person noted how other people breathed on regular days, anyway?

"A wish to hyperventilate is highly illogical, as I believe it is a highly unpleasant experience. It would also 'be my business', as you might say, if your health is compromised in the Library during my shift."

Jim couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Oh, you're concerned about my health now? That seems to be beside the point, doesn't it? Besides-" He placed his palms flat on the counter and leaned forward, glaring. "-Faster breathing might be a sign of _anger_, and not sickness, Spock."

If the Vulcan noted the lack of the usual honorific, he didn't show it. He didn't, also, rise to his feet to mirror Jim as Jim had hoped he would, and remained instead sitting in his chair. "Anger is an illogical emotion, Cadet."

Jim fumed. The anger that bubbled through him didn't abate in the slightest. He forced it down, swallowed it until it boiled like acid in his stomach, and turned towards the door again. "While we're on the topic of sickness, I do hope you are taking your allergy medication as Doctor Broum prescribed." Finally, a reaction! The Vulcan's eyes blinked and narrowed slightly, and his fingers moved towards the pouch under the counter, before being stilled by what Jim sensed was a conscious effort. Jim followed the movement and looked back into the brown eyes with a smirk. "It would be a shame if we lost such a _logical_ Librarian." And he left.

~o~

Jim vented his anger and annoyance in the Academy's gym, pumping iron and hitting the punching bag until his knuckles were sore and throbbing under the protective gloves. Then he hit the showers, purposefully setting the water to cold and letting its frigidity leech the heat off his skin. It felt great.

He wondered at his anger. The Kobayashi Maru was the root of it, definitely. He had been looking forward to it, more than anyone knew, with the probable exception of Bones, who was so attuned to Jim's body language that he could almost tell what he was thinking. He had wanted to be the first to beat it. To prove he was better than the simulation that had bested all those Cadets before him. After all, nobody ever cared who made it there second, or who failed in the attempt. For anything, there was only meaning in being the first. That was what people remembered.

He thought about the Librarian. A twinge of annoyance went through him as he remembered his unaffected silence. Then again, on hindsight, maybe he was taking it too personally. Everyone else had failed, after all. Maybe his silence hadn't been mocking, and maybe he had just tried to avoid the subject since Jim was feeling sore about it?

Aargh. Whatever.

Outside the showers, he inexplicably ran into Gaila, who grabbed his arm enthusiastically. He momentarily wondered whether she remembered they had agreed to be just friends, but she quickly dispelled his worries. "Oh Jim, I'm so happy! I think I've finally found the right guy for me!" Her face was flushed as she looked up at Jim, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

"Really? That's great, Gaila.. Do I know him?"

Gaila's smile spread wider, and the sides of her eyes crinkled. "You do." She giggled, as if privy to some secret that eluded him.

"Well, don't just leave me hanging! Who is it?" He couldn't help but smile too, she was so obviously happy. "Not the good doctor McCoy, is it?" She squeezed his arm playfully, shaking her head. "Who, then?"

"You have to guess!"

"Aw come on, there's no way I can guess something like that!"

"Try." She pouted.

"Geez. Um." He rubbed the back of his head, still damp from the showers. "A third year?"

She nodded. "Go on."

"Honestly, Gaila, how am I supposed to guess… Is it someone from Piloting?"

"Yes." She giggled again, a blush creeping into her green cheeks.

"Someone from Piloting, huh…" He thought of the guys he knew in the course, mentally crossing off those that had girlfriends, or preferred not to. The list wasn't very long. "That guy Chekov is still underaged, you know." She flicked his elbow.

"I wouldn't go with a child. No, he's a real man. Guess again."

"Francis? Yassin?"

"Wrong on all counts! He's-"

She was interrupted. "Hey, Gaila!"

They both turned towards the male voice. Beside Jim, Gaila giggled again before breaking away from his side and running into the arms of the man who had spoken. Jim could only stare, disbelieving, as she tightly hugged Gary Mitchell around the middle, laughing and blushing.

~o~

**Jim's Kobayashi Maru attempt, numero uno! And Gaila finds herself another man, Jim's own good friend Gary himself! Oh my. I apologise that it's quite a bit shorter than the previous chapter, chap6 was pretty long, haha! Sit tight for the next chapter! Please review, and happy belated Valentine's to everyone! Especially all you single people out there, the time has come to claim back the 364 days of the year that are rightfully ours xDD Cheers! **

**~Aiji**


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not blame you (if anyone is still reading this. I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't) if you want to throw mud/rotten fruit/assorted sharp objects at me.. I haven't updated since February and though I do wish I could say I had a reason, I had plenty of time in the 6 (oh god six. That's half a year. ) months that this story has been stagnating. I almost forgot what it was about and where I wanted it to go. **

**Loads of stuff has happened and has been straightened out, for instance, my results were good, and I've got a place in a university in Europe, I've moved there, settling in, sorting out administrative poop. Currently I'm rather sick and I can't get an appointment because all the General Practitioners are full. (I'm starting to miss Singapore's polyclinics. Waiting times and all.) And it's a foreign country to me, so I expect to be pretty busy. This translates to updates with longer breaks in between, though I do hope that it won't be as drastic as to merit the 6 months that have gone past. To those that are still reading, for a reason I cannot fathom but am boundlessly thankful for, well, thank you. Really. I'd love to hear from you guys, even if it is to express your hate and desire to throttle me with my own shirt. **

**And without further ado. Because there was enough of it already.**

* * *

Jim stared, dumbfounded, as Gaila twined her arms around the smirking Gary. He returned the gesture, pressing the Orion to his chest in a seemingly affectionate gesture, but with her head pillowed under his chin and her face hidden, he looked over at Jim and twitched his eyebrows. His smirk deepened as he ran one hand down Gaila's back, eliciting a quiet, happy sigh from her. Something in Jim twisted.

Gaila disentangled herself from Gary, but kept close, one arm around his waist. His face shifted immediately from arrogant to gentle as she turned her face up to him. She giggled, blushing.

"You should see the look on your face, Jim. Didn't expect me to land the most amazing girl in the Academy, did you?" Gary said, and Gaila blushed deeper.

Two pairs of eyes watched Jim attentively, waiting for his reaction. Though Jim had known Gaila for a shorter period of time than he had Gary, with whom he had shared tutorials from the start of his time in the Academy, her expression and feelings were easy to read. Joy. Love. Eagerness for Jim to be happy for her.

"I definitely didn't. I suppose I should have guessed, eh?" Jim forced out, pasting a smile on his face. "When did you two get together?"

"Just yesterday! And it feels like the most right thing ever!" Gaila exclaimed. "You should hear about what happened—Oh, unless you mind, darling?"

Gary flashed a smile. "Not at all." Jim listened numbly as Gaila launched into a tale of flowers, notes under doors and locked gazes across no less than twelve different rooms. He wasn't paying much attention to her words. Instead, he concentrated on Gary, who was looking at Gaila in a way he didn't like at all.

When Gaila finished, flushed, she took a deep breath and bounced a little on her toes. She looked over at Jim again, though this time, with a hint of hesitation. "You- What do you think, Jim?"

"Fantastic! You two look really great together!" Jim lied, and Gaila beamed. Gary only smirked, keeping his eyes on Jim.

Of all people, why did it have to be Gary? Jim counted him as a friend, he conceded, but it was the kind of friend he hit the clubs with, or drew up a list of 'best girls' with, or pulled stunts with just to chase away boredom. If Jim hadn't found a best friend in Leonard McCoy, who had decidedly put a stop to the more reckless pursuits he would have otherwise embarked on with Gary, well… it didn't bear thinking about. A disciplinary hearing would probably feature somewhere. "I'm meeting Leonard," he heard himself say in a cheerful voice that didn't sound like him. "I'll catch you two later, yeah?" And he legged it down the corridor with as much discretion and dignity that he could muster.

_Why Gary?_ That was a pointless question, he knew the answer already. Of course it was Gary. Gary's fervor in chasing the ladies was comparable only to Jim's. But while Gary would describe everything that happened in the bedroom down to the tiniest graphic detail to the delight of the male listeners hanging on to his every word, Jim would keep mum about it, shrugging, refusing even to give ratings. It wasn't much, but that thought was at least a small saving grace. He had never liked how Gary talked about girls, but he had always managed to ignore it. But now, Gaila's bright, hopeful eyes were at the front of his mind and he couldn't help but curse. He knew what Gary was after, simply because they had spent so much of the first year pursuing just that. Alcohol or not, hadn't he done pretty much the same thing at the Galaxus Dinner?

Jim slowed his pace and headed towards the dorms.

Gaila was obviously head over heels in love with Gary. It was just a matter of time before she got her feelings trampled into the floor again. He ran his hand through his hair distractedly and sighed. He couldn't leave it at that. His conscience would be unbearable.

In the next two days, Jim tried ineffectually to catch Gary alone. It was more difficult than he had anticipated, as he was either with Gaila, or his sports buddies, or gone (and presumably with Gaila). And the last thing Jim wanted was to cause a scene that would hurt Gaila more than anybody else, which would undoubtedly happen if he confronted Gary in front of such witnesses.

Oh, god. It sounded like he was gearing up for murder.

Nevertheless, he managed it. Knowing that Gary had Piloting reading to do, he borrowed one copy of the lecture disc in the Library and hid the other eleven in the Xenobotany section. When Gary's double break arrived, he retired into a Cell that wasn't too obscured, and waited.

It didn't take long. Within 15 minutes, the Library doors opened to admit Gary Mitchell, who made a beeline for the Piloting section. Jim, meanwhile, basked in smug self-satisfaction, and when Gary emerged from the shelves, empty-handed and agitated, moved to busy himself by slotting the disc into his PADD and feigning interest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gary checking the Library database. He knew his name would be there, probably among a few others, on the list of students who had borrowed a copy. Hopefully Gary would notice the time of the borrowing and think to take a look around. He had probably planned only to pop in and pick up the disc before meeting up with somebody (Jim fiddled with his pad, frowning slightly), but he would have to sit and talk with Jim before that.

The Cell door slid open, and Jim looked up at Gary with a very credible look of surprise. "Hey Gary! Wasn't expecting to see you. What's shaking?" He nodded at the seat opposite him, inviting him to sit down. Gary did so, eyeing the PADD.

"Background reading?"

Jim leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms, then leaned forward again and tapped the disc cover. "Nah. Just refreshing. I'm in a Piloting mood today." The lies came more easily than Jim thought they would. He briefly wondered if he should be concerned about that, then dismissed the thought just as quickly.

"Ah. See, I have a favour to ask. I need to read up on that and there aren't any copies available for borrowing."

"You're kidding! There's always loads of spare copies, I thought." _And there are. _There had to be, too. Piloting was popular.

"So did I. They're either borrowed or I can't find them." A tiny thrill went through Jim's body at this affirmation of his plan working perfectly.

"And you want to borrow this one?"

"If you don't need it that badly. Because of the lecture with Johns later."

"He's still sore about you flirting with his wife?"

"I wasn't to _know_. She looks 20 years younger than him!"

"She is. You might want to notice the matching marriage bands in the future." Gary only waved his hand dismissively at this. "Anyway, why are you reading up so late?"

Jim's building suspicions were confirmed when Gary shot him a wicked grin. "That Orion. She's a piece of work, right enough. She's gone out of my room only for lectures and tutorials." He held Jim's gaze. "_Only_ lectures and tutorials. I'm meeting her in a bit behind the engineering building."

Jim fought the urge to clench his fist, and pushed the thought of _too late_ away. "Funny you should mention Gaila. I wanted to talk to you about her, actually." He had been dreading this. But he owed it to her. All the more now that he hadn't been quick enough to stop Gary taking her back to his room.

"Oh, I think I know everything about her already. Down to the last freckle in the most unlikely place and how having her back touched puts her on edge. I'll give it to you, I thought you were crazy, but you knew what you were doing at the Galaxus Dinner-" He stopped, staring at Jim. "Hey. What is up with you?"

That was it. Jim looked down at his hands, which were gripping his PADD so hard his knuckles were white. Beating about the bush was never his strong point, even when the situation expressly called for it. This wasn't one of them anyway, so he took a deep breath.

"Unless you are serious about being in a relationship with Gaila, and I don't mean a sex-buddy relationship, I want to you stop it. Right now." He inhaled. "She deserves better than a wham, bam, thank you m'am. But I wouldn't expect you to thank her, even."

Gary stared at him, struck dumb. If he had been expecting anything, Jim knew, it most definitely wasn't that. Their talks about girls before that had, Jim thought somewhat guiltily, revolved around what could be described as comparing notes on bedroom techniques and experiences. To his credit though, Jim didn't expect his reaction, which was a delighted, raucous laugh that echoed painfully around the small Cell. He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, and propped his elbows on the table. "Jim," he began, and snorted in laughter again. "Are you in _love_ with her?"

"I—No! That's not what this is about at all! Look, Gary. Gaila's had a hard time. Because guys only see her as an Orion. She's just like any other girl with feelings, and I want her to be treated like one." The laugh was fast disappearing from Gary's face. "If you can give her that, fine. But if you're with her just for the orgasms, and if you hurt her when you're tired of her, you will have me to answer to."

They stared at each other across the table, the fading threads of Jim's uncharacteristic words hanging in the air. Gary's mouth, Jim noticed, was slightly open. Was saying such a thing really so strange?

For Jim Kirk, famed ladies' man extraordinaire, it probably was.

"Let me get this straight," Gary finally spoke. "Unless it's for a deep, caring, mutually fulfilling relationship, you want me to leave Gaila?"

"Yes."

Gary gave a bark of a laugh, but it was cold. "_Why_? You've had your fun with her. Let me have mine."

Jim had been mentally preparing himself for this particular argument. "I was drunk at the Galaxus Dinner. It was a mistake and I regret it."

"Oh, sure you do! I bet little Jim doesn't, though. If I didn't know better, I would say you're jealous that I'm with Gaila."

"Jealousy has nothing to do with it. I made a mistake I'm trying to make up for, and-"

"So you're telling me I can't sleep with her? Oh, for fuck's sake. Stop being such a damned hypocrite and _listen_ to yourself. Since when did you take such an interest in what girls _felt_?"

To that, Jim didn't have an answer. He always made sure that the girl didn't expect more than a one-night stand, but at the same time didn't regret it later. To tell the truth, Gaila had been the first to completely give herself up to the idea of a night in bed (or in that particular case, on the bench in the rose bushes) as a perfectly sound opening to a relationship that was meant to last beyond the morning.

"It doesn't matter." Jim hid his hesitation under a steely glare and prayed that Gary didn't see through it. "Gaila is a friend, and deserves more respect than you're giving her. If you make her cry…" He left the words hanging.

Gary glared at him through narrowed eyes. Then he got to his feet. "You damned hypocrite." he hissed, and let himself out.

Jim sat very still for about a minute. Then he folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them, which was how Leonard McCoy found him an hour later. He put a gentle hand on Jim's shoulder. "Jim?"

"'m not sleeping."

Bones raised an eyebrow and dropped into the seat that had been occupied by Gary Mitchell just over an hour ago. "It sure looked like it. I commend your choice of location, but you're missing lunch."

"Don't feel like eating." Jim mumbled against the fabric of his sleeve. "'m tired."

"Well, alright." Jim could hear the shrug in Bones' his friend's voice. "You're forgoing the delights of Mrs Beesworth's excellent herb sauce tagliatelle."

"Tagliatelle is easy to handle. It doesn't hold grudges and come around to bite you in the ass."

Bones paused and regarded Jim's form. "Which is why you should be appreciative of it. Lunch. Now. You can tell me about what is bothering you."

Finally, Jim looked up, meeting the doctor's steely grey gaze that belied the concern within. "Alright. I'll meet you in the cafeteria in 10."

* * *

"So let me see if I have this right." Bones put his fork down purposefully on his empty plate. "You and Gaila are on good terms. But she's found a new man in Gary, who's just using her."

Jim, his mouth full of tagliatelli, grimaced and nodded.

"You tried to talk him out of it with little success. Now you think he might give Gaila a harder time because of the little talk you had. Not to mention you're not too proud of the fact that your motivations weren't much different when you met her, and you don't much care for the notion of her finding that out." Jim grunted in reply, focusing on the pasta on his plate. "Tough. I never liked him."

"I'm wondering if I should try talking to Gaila, but she's completely in love with him."

"You wouldn't achieve much."

"No."

"No." Bones agreed.

The conversation lapsed, in favour of the clink of Jim's cutlery on his plate as he finished off his lunch. He was frowning slightly, the corners of his mouth drawn. Bones knew better than to disturb him when he had his thinking face on- he'd only get monosyllabic answers and then Jim would find some excuse to hide somewhere and just _think._ Which, in this case, didn't seem like such a bad idea, because Bones didn't have any idea himself as to what Jim should do in terms of damage control, short of knives and body bags in the night. He knew if there was a way to get out of the situation, Jim would find it. He just hoped the time he needed to do that wasn't too long.

"Any lectures today?"

"What? Oh. No."

Bones stood up and gathered his used crockery. "I do. You had better make use of the time. Where will you be later?"

Well, the answer to _that_ was easy. "The Library."

* * *

The Piloting class was a big one. Which meant that Jim, who had been allowed advance placement, could enjoy the Library at its quietest best even, and especially, when the lecture was taking place. He paused at the entrance; being back here, he was reminded of his intention to beat the Kobayashi Maru. He still wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. Life just saw fit to throw itself in the path of his plans and be annoying in the way it was so good at. He glanced at his usual seat at the Librarian's desk. It was his favourite place, but now it didn't seem appropriate. It wasn't like he would be solving formulas and ploughing through excess readings- no, he had to come up with a solution to the Gary problem. He had no intention of sharing such troubles with the Vulcan Librarian, though he could use the calming influence right now. He strongly doubted that he'd be spared an inquiring question or two (or, heaven forbid, the eyebrow) if he spent two hours sitting in his chair frowning and not saying a thing.

Then he remembered the angry note on which he had the Library just three days ago. Well, sitting there was definitely out of the question. 'Awkward' would not even begin to describe it.

To the Cells it was, then.

He took a step forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Librarian look up at him, and felt his gaze pull at his eyeballs as he drew level with the desk. His internal litany of _don'tlookdon'tlook_ proved useless as his eyes met the Librarian's emotionless brown ones. There was no feeling there as far as he could see- just calm observation. Jim gave him a small nod of acknowledgement and hurried up the staircase to find a calm, quiet spot, feeling the back of his neck flush red. With embarrassment? He cursed. Why the hell was he embarrassed? He had so many other things to worry about than his image in front of the Academy staff.

He found what he wanted midway up the Cells structure- a group of Cells that was completely, blessedly abandoned. He picked one and shut the door behind him.

_Could he talk to Gaila? What would he say? The only way he could credibly discourage her was by admitting his own original intentions, his imperfections. Nobody could expect him to be perfect, but Gaila thought of him as her __**friend**__. He couldn't betray that…_

_Gary? Talking to him didn't help… Jim knew him, what he was like. He would spite Jim, just to show he could, and would… He hated giving up or getting beaten as much as Jim did, which naturally meant that this whole damn situation had 'BIG PROBLEM' written over it in red marker…_

_Maybe he could trick him into leaving Gaila somehow? Find a hotter chick… But no, Gaila WAS the hotter chick, there wasn't anyone else Jim could think of that would agree to get with Gary Mitchell for Jim's reason, no matter how differently he phrased it. Short of a downright lie, that wouldn't work and there'd just be more problems after that._

Jim lost himself in speculations and half-baked, wholly unrealistic plans. The PADD surface became convoluted with little squiggles and notes and arrows that were crossed and corrected and re-circled again.

This wasn't working. Just like in the Kobayashi Maru, he was missing something, the crucial point. If what you tried didn't work, go for another strategy and try them all. All the strategies…

Strategies. Well. He wasn't sure if the great generals of history and space meant for their ideas to be used in an academy to resolve problems such as his, but they were certainly in no position at all to protest. Lying in a grave somewhere wasn't a position to do much other than lie there, after all.

So.

Gary Mitchell had all the power in his hands, there was little Jim could do if that remained the case. That was straight out of Bridge Psychology and Battle Strategems. So if he was to have a chance, there were variables he would have to influence, or new ones that he should introduce. Get leverage. Introduce an uncertainty factor. But then he came to the big question of 'what', or possibly 'who'—

The answer hit him like a hammer to the head. He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to think of it.

It was time to visit Cadet Uhura.

**There you go! I hope that was alright. I have no idea how this became a lets-save-Gaila-from-Gary chapter, but it won't go on for long, I swear. I don't want it to. So I also apologise for the Spocklessness (which think I have done once before. Oh no. ) I hide behind the excuse that it is a slow-building fic. Please don't fling things at me. I also don't really like how its veering away from the spirit of the first chapter (if you read it again you'll see what I mean) in the sense of humour fics, this chapter is all… drama-mamma-llama. I shall do my best to improve on that, please bear with me!**

**Whether it be lovin' or hatin', I'd love to hear from you! Please leave me a review! Clicky the review button.**

**aiji-mango**


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